No Secrets
by Kiss Queen Love Kiss
Summary: The Select are off to retrieve the Seventh Loculus when a run-in with Morty Reese leads them to hire a security guard named Jon. One day, they learn something horrifying thing about Jon. Reviews and criticisms are strongly encouraged and welcome.
1. Marco

"Yo, Brother Jack, what you thinking about?" I asked.

We were driving in Alexandria, Egypt, to receive the 7th Loculus.

"Nothing," Jack grunted.

He was sitting next to Aly. I could almost swear that Brother Jack and Sister Aly were kissy-time friends. There had to be something going on between them. At least that's what I thought.

Since Jack didn't seem to be interested in me, I turned my attention to Brother Cass. "Bro Cass, what road are we on?"

"We're on the Al Daoly Al Gade Road."

"English, please?"

Cass turned away from the road and to his phone. "No results."

"Dammit. I was hoping to laugh at what it was."

"And make an ass out of yourself?" Cass said sarcastically.

"To quote your mom, 'when you assume, you make an _ass_ out of _u_ and _me_." Daria. The girl we'd met in Babylon and saved.

"Shut. Up." I said through gritted teeth.

It had been at least a year since I'd seen my parents. Mr. McKinley tried to contact them and tell them I was safe and okay but apparently they thought I was dead since they 'got one too many pranks.'

For me, that was incredibly hard. Especially knowing that I may never see my parents again.

When the Massa began training me to be king because they thought I was going to be king, they promised me I'd see my parents and sister. I thought that too. But it wasn't true.

Too and true. They rhyme. I'm a poet and I don't know it.

"Here," said Torkissimo in his loud voice. He opened the doors.

This was the sight of the Pharos of Alexandria.

Mrs. MicKinley pulled out a first aid kit. "Be safe, kids."

She climbed back into the van and drove away to a nearby neighbourhood.

There was absolutely nothing there other than sand and sea.


	2. Daria

"So," I said. "Is there a portal or something or..." I couldn't assume. That's something I learned from Marco. Well, his mom, but still.

"I don't know," said Aly. She looked at Marco. "Want to test it for us, Big Guy? You are a good swimmer."

Marco grinned. "YES!" he exclaimed, and jumped into the water. We watched him swim deeper and deeper.

"Do you think there will be a portal?" Cass asked, hopeful.

"I don't know," I said. Why should I doubt it? After all, I'd left Babylon in favour of this new world where I was still learning the difference between a phone and a computer.

And no, that's not even remotely funny. You try leaving your own time and literally travelling across thousands of years and you don't even know the new world you're in.

You try and tell me how funny it is.

After about twenty-seven minutes, Marco swam back.

"I was away for about two days. Sorry, friends," he panted.

Aly checked her watch. "It's been twenty-seven minutes, not two days."

"Twenty-seven minutes?" Marco was amazed.

"I remember something," Aly said, kneeling onto the ground. "When we traveled to Babylon, we learned that time there passed one-ninetieth the speed of time. If Marco was there for two days while we were here for twenty-seven minutes, then it's clearly the reverse here: the other world passes one-ninetieth faster than in our time."

"Bingo!" Cass shouted. "Let's tell that to the adults."

Jack pulled out his phone and began to phone his parents. "Dad? Yeah, it's me." He talked to his father while I stared out into the sea, not listening.

The waves crashed against the beach and moved back to where they came from. It was so pretty. I wished I could just bathe in it with no care. As if we weren't dying.

As if the world wasn't at stake.


	3. Jack

"So," Dad concluded. "Marco swan out into the sea, and said that two days had passed, but for you, it was twenty-seven minutes."

"Yes," I answered, knowing he would believe me.

He rubbed his chin. "What did people wear back around the time of the Lighthouse?"

I was surprised. "You already want to sent us there?"

"The last orb's there, so it's best we go there now and then we can cure you sooner."

"Yeah, but shouldn't we do research first?"

"Did you think we wouldn't do research first?"

I didn't say anything. I could feel everyone's eyes on me.

"You go tomorrow. And remember: a problem that seems unsolvable always looks different in the light of a new day."

"Yeah." I wasn't too happy about it. I mean. I did want to live, but I also wanted to take some rest for a bit of time, preferably in Belleville, but Mom and Dad were desperate to cure us so they wouldn't have to worry about all of us (particularly me) dying. And then there was that whole king business...

"I want to take some rest," I said, hoping to forget about it all.

"Feel free," said Mom. "You must be awfully tired from everything going on."

At least Mom understood.

I took the staircase to our suite because I wanted to avoid Aly because of our whole... thing.

When Aly returned from Atlantis, I'd kissed her because I'd regretted the fact that I hadn't before Uhl'aar dragged her through the portal. Much to my shock, Aly didn't seem to mind. I guess she needed it.

We hadn't told anyone that we kissed since Aly's parents (her dad, especially) didn't want her dating anyone, male or female.

I walked across the dirty corridor, which was yellow. On the floor there was a mahogany carpet that started at the stairway and ended at the corridor's ending spot. Our suite was at the end of the hall.

It was number 313. The door was a rusty, dirty yellow. The plate that read _313_ was somewhat faded and dusty. I paced to my room when I accidentally bumped into someone. I looked up.

He reminded me of Barry Reese. In fact, he looked so much like him that you could've sworn that he was an adult version of him. The man had a slight mustache growing at his skin and hair that was combed back. He was so fat that he took up half the width of the corridor, which was eight times my width.

"Whoooooooooo do we have here?" The man put his enormous jelly arms on his waist... if that's what you call a waist.

He was so much like Barry Reese that he even _talked_ like him. It wouldn't be a surprise if he was that son of a bitch's

Dear God, he did look like the Barry's dad.

"Well, you look familiar." The man squinted his eyes at me.

"W-who are you?" I trembled. He already intimidated me.

"Who am I? WHO AM I?!" He grabbed me by the collar. "I AM MORTY REESE! I AM THE RICHEST MAN IN BELLEVILLE! I OWN THOUSANDS OF TV STATIONS! AND YOU ASK ME WHO I AM?" He dropped me.

Shit. We ended getting him here.

"Why did you come?" I demanded.

"I want to know where you've been going on all these mysterious trips. Why did you suddenly leave when you'd come back after six months?" Donald Trump with normal hair squinted at me.

"I-I-I go to boarding school." I stammered, praying he'd buy it and leave.

"Nice try, kid." Mr. Reese grabbed my arm. "You're probably involved with terrorists, aren't you? Planning to do another 9/11, correct?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but someone put their very rough and very large hand over my mouth.

"Take him to the HQ," ordered Morty Reese as he left, squishing and suffocating me.

Everything went black in that moment.


	4. Aly

"Jack?"

I entered the suite and looked both ways. Usually Jack would be sitting on a couch, relaxing. That, unless he was in the bathroom, which was strange, considering the fact that if I called out his name he would respond, regardless of where he was.

I was sure Jack was supposed to be here. Didn't he say he was going to be here for some rest?

"Jack!"

Still no response.

"What you talking about?" said a voice with an Arabic accent.

I turned. Right in front of me was a man in a stereotypical desert traveler outfit. He had bushy black eyebrows and a slight goatee growing at his chin.

"I'm looking for a friend of mine," I said. "Jack McKinley."

"And who is this Jack and what does he look like?"

"Jack," I began, "is a friend of mine. He has mousy brown hair, which is about shoulder length, and blue eyes. Caucasian. Fourteen and 5'8."

The man rubbed his chin. "I saw boy with that look being dragged out of the hotel. Sleeping. By fat man and two lean and muscular burglars. I phone cops. Criminals." He looked back at me. "Show me picture of Jack."

I went into the McKinleys' bedroom and searched for their wallet. If I remembered correctly, Mr. McKinley had a picture of twelve-year-old Jack in his wallet. It didn't look 100% like fourteen-year-old Jack (obviously), but it was close enough for people to recognize that twelve-year-old Jack and fourteen-year-old Jack were the same person.

I looked into the drawer and found a small photo of eleven-year-old Jack. At least he still was recognizable, only not quite as twelve-year-old Jack. Whatever. It would have to do.

I took it out and headed back to the entrance. "This is a photo of Jack at age 11. He's 14 now."

I handed the photo over to the man. He examined it closely.

"Looks like boy I saw." He handed the picture back to me.

Uh-oh. If this man said that eleven-year-old Jack looked like the boy he saw, then that could not be good.

"What is your name?" I asked.

"Ahmed el-Gazzawy. I'm here from Tunisia with my wife Laila and my children Abia, Aaliyah, Azesuna , Abdullah, Amad, Amir, and Arif."

Jesus. That was an awful lot of children. And the fact that their names all started with A's like mine and their father's...

"Thank you." I finally said, feeling grateful for getting something on Jack, but also scared and worried.

I sprinted out of the suite and down the hall.

I had to tell the others. I had to tell Mr. McKinley and Mrs. McKinley.


	5. Cass

"...and then Mr. el-Gazzowey told me that he saw a boywholookedlikeJackbeingdraggedbyfatmanandleanburglars so he called the cops."

Aly took a deep breath. She had run down the stairs claiming that a man told her that he'd seen someone who looked like Kcaj saw deppandik.

"What did the men look like?" asked Ocram.

"H-h-h-he didn't tell me," Yla stuttered.

"Etuis eht ni mih was uoy dna." I said.

"What?" Jack's dad looked at us. He had just come back from the moorhtab. Jack's mom headed outside for a bit of fresh air.

"Crap," I murmured.

Ocram, Airad, and I looked at him, and then Aly. Aly took a deep breath in and looked at Mr. Yelnickcm. Then she began.

"I went to the suite and did not find Jack so I called out his name and a man came up to me and asked me what I was looking for so I told him I was looking for Jack and he asked me what Jack looked like so I told him andhesaidthathesawaboywholookedlikeJackunconsciousanddraggedoutofthehotelbyafatmanandleanburglarssohe calledthecops."

Aly took another deep breath. She was very stressed and not as calm as she usually was.

"Aly, did something happen to Jack?" Mr. McKinley looked concerned.

"Yes," she blurted, and retold the entire story to him. Only it was less disjointed.

"What was the man's name? And what did he look like? And are you really 100% sure it was Jack? After all, it could've been another boy being kidnapped and looked like Jack."

"The man's name was Ahmed el-Gazzawy, and he looked like a stereotypical person traveling in the desert.

"Yes, I'm 100% sure that it was Jack since I called his name but he didn't respond. And you know he would've responded if someone called his name even if he was in the bathroom."

Mr. McKinley sat down. He rubbed his chin. After a long silence, he spoke.

"I'll talk to the hotel staff. There might be someone who's in the hotel with the name of Ahmed el-Gazzawy." He got out of his chair and went to talk with the hotel staff.

We all sat there, silent.

This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.

I pulled out my worry beads. I was going to be needing them.


	6. Marco 2

Mr. McKinley returned and sat in the chair. He put his head in his hands.

"Before I went to the hotel staff, I headed to the suite. I just wanted to make sure that Jack's OK.

"I didn't get a response, so I checked all of the rooms. Three times. And I couldn't find him. So I went to the hotel staff.

"There is a man with the surname of el-Gezzawy. And his first name isn't Ahmed.

"However, the man does have a visitor with the name Ahmed el-Gezzawy. The hotel staff are off to get him." He looked at all of us. Daria, Aly, Cass, and me. "I just hope it's not Jack. If it was..."

I didn't need to hear the rest to know how it would turn out.

"If it is Jack," Aly began. "How do we find him?"

"What makes you think that, Sister Aly?" I asked, even though I was thinking the same thing.

Even if I didn't want to show it. Because that's what being a man is all about. Not showing emotion. Not crying.

"Oh, I don't know," she seethed. "Maybe it's the fact that we don't even know who the kidnappers are."

"It could be someone we know," suggested Cass. "Like, the news station owned by Morty Reese, or perhaps someone we don't know, like another organization out to get Select."

Mr. McKinley looked puzzled. "If there is another organization out to get Select, wouldn't we have known about it?"

"Known about what?" Mrs. McKinley.

"Anne," Mr. McKinley grabbed out a chair for her to sit in. When they met for the first time in seven years, they didn't talk much. Still, neither of them needed words to know that there was a lot of mistrust and anger. When they did talk to each other, it didn't turn out too well.

And the less said about that, the better.

"Is something wrong?" Mrs. McKinley sounded worried. "Is it Jack?"

"I need to tell you something." Mrs. McKinley sat down, ready to hear what she was going to.

"You'll divorce me, right?" Her face had an expression I couldn't read.

"No. It's about Jack." And then he told her everything Aly told us.


	7. Daria 2

Jack's mother looked as though she were going to

What's the word for it again? Oh yes, cry. Having the ability to learn languages at a phenomenal rate does have its drawbacks. Already I have learned a lot of French, Russian, Spanish, Greek, Arabic, all of English, all of Aramaic, and all of Latin. I don't forgot words that often; this is the first time in a year that it's happened.

"You checked the suite?" Her voice trembled.

"Yes," he said grimly.

"I'll check again." Anne left.

Anne is Jack's mother's name. I usually don't refer to someone as Mr., Ms., or Mrs. (Well, at least in my head I don't) It just feels odd. If I'm talking to someone who's a president or prime minister, king, queen, whatever, then I'd usually prefer 'sir' or 'madame' (French)

I never did quite get "Mr. President," or "Mr. Prime Minister," or His/ Her Royal Highness (to a certain extent). Why couldn't the politicians at least refer to each other by the first name instead of something that seems idiotic?

A man came walking by. He had a black beard. He had a _blanc_ (white. I use it when I want to) cloth on top of his head, which was kept on by tying a brown string around the circumference (is that the correct word?) of his head. He had brown skin and brown eyes. He was dressed up like a Westerner. Beside him was a woman wearing something the _musulmen_ (Muslims) called a _burka_.

"Is that Mr. el-Gezzawy?" I asked, pointing to the man.

Aly shook her head. "He didn't have a beard. He had a goatee and the growing of a mustache."

"Oh." I looked around the room. There were mostly Caucasians and people with brown skin, but there were also a few people with yellow skin. I think they are called either Chinese or Japanese. We have a Japanese-Canadian Select back on the island. His name is Aito. He was in a single parent home. I learned Aito's mother neglected him, and it was around the time he'd been taken out of her custody that Anne found him.

Speaking of Anne, she'd come back.

"Any luck?" Martin asked, as though he didn't want to believe that Jack was really missing.

"No."

The only thing I felt was scared. And worried.

Not that I wasn't. Only now it was more.

I began to pray. It always helps in times of trouble.

Like now.


	8. Jack 2

I opened my eyes. It felt like I was being held like a towel over someone's shoulder. I started kicking.

"The brat's woken up, Morty." He had a deep voice. It was safe to assume that the man who spoke was one of my captors.

The man carrying me threw me on to the cold hard ground. It hurt so bad that I felt like my back was broken into a million pieces. I groaned.

 _Morty._

The man at the hotel reminded me of Morty Reese. It was because of how much he looked like him.

If the man was Morty Reese, then how did he find out that we were going to Alexandria?

"No complaints."

His voice was like Morty Reese. A little bit deeper than Donald Trump's.

"Pick him up and put him in the trunk, boys. I've got a few questions to ask this... terrorist.

"If he doesn't answer.."

I couldn't hear the rest because of how much I was hurting. I could feel myself picked up off the ground. I was being carried into a stinky old car trunk.

The smell knocked me out.

 **XxXXXxXXxXXxxXXXXXXxXXxXxxxXXXXXXxXx**

I woke to find myself tied to a chair with my hands behind my back and a cloth to my mouth. Based on what I could see, I was in a hut made from wood, which was strange, since you shouldn't find wood in the middle of the desert.

At least it seemed to be wood.

I looked around to see if there were any people in the hut. No one. I was alone.

I began trying to untie my hands but my fingers were numb. Then I tried to stand up while I was in the chair, which is extremely stupid if you think about it. I managed to get myself to stand up, and hopped because it was hard to walk when you're tied to a chair. I was able to go a few steps near a place which seemed to be a door before I collapsed and hit the wall, breaking it completely.

How was it that I had the strength to be able to walk after being brutally put in a car and possibly kicked and beaten up?

I landed on the ground with a hard _thud_ and a lot of pain. It felt like I was bleeding.

I looked up. Right in front of me was a man.

"Oh my God." For some reason that didn't sound like concern. He knelt down and picked me up.

"I'm taking you to the hospital." Again, no concern.

I could feel him untying me.

I closed my eyes, and everything went black.


	9. Aly 2

"Jack's in the hospital?"

"Who found him?"

"Where was he found?"

Questions. Lots of them. All about Jack.

I was so relieved when I learned that he'd been found... and it wasn't because I might like him because of that... thing that happened when I returned from Atlantis.

Just because you do something like that with someone doesn't mean you love them. But to be fair, I did sometimes convince myself that I was in love only to say the exact opposite to myself the next day.

As I climbed into the Jeep Torquin stole (well, borrowed... or so he claimed since the last one needs a bit of fixing), I couldn't help but think to myself: why didn't Jack try to escape after being kidnapped? Knowing him that well, you'd have thought he would've done that when he had the chance.

Or maybe he didn't have the chance.

"I know what you're thinking," Daria said. "Who kidnapped him?"

Shit. Why didn't I think that? I was an absolutely horrible girlfriend.

 _Girlfriend_? Why am I thinking like that? My parents would kill me if they found out I think of myself as Jack's girlfriend. They would ground me for life. They wouldn't let me marry him when we were old enough.

 _Marry him_? What the fuck is wrong with me?

"Here," said Torquin.

"Already?" That was shocking.

"We were driving for about half an hour. And you say 'already'?" Cass said that as though it was forever.

The hospital was a white brick building with a red plus sign on top. It reminded me a little of the _Tintin_ series back in '90s.

Mr. and Mrs. McKinley hurried out of the Jeep and sprinted into the hospital.

Daria, Cass, Marco, and I ran after them.

I was dreading what I was about to see.


	10. Cass 2

Mr. McKinley was talking to the hospital intern, talking to him despite the fact he didn't know English.

"When can I see Jack? I'm his father. I should be allowed to see him. I.."

Mr. McKinley continued ranting while Daria was trying to convince him to let her talk to the intern since she could pick up languages at a phenomenal rate... assuming one of those languages were Arabic, which I highly doubted she knew since she never talked much.

Well, at least not to me. She never even hung out with us that often, declining to join us for tennis, basketball, badminton, etc. with Marco.

I was sitting down, clicking my worry beads since I was completely convinced that Jack was dying. That's why the intern didn't let us in. Because he didn't want us to be there for Jack's death. Aly and Marco were silent, as though they were too scared to say anything.

I was sure that el-Gezzawy man was behind all of this. After all, he was the one who told Aly about Jack being kidnapped. I hoped he was because he's probably a terrorist. Almost all Muslims are. Ti fo erus m'i.

"He's saying that they're bandaging Jack right now, and they don't want to be distracted, Martin!" yelled Daria, shaking his arm. But Mr. McKinley wasn't listening. She kept repeating herself, until Mr. McKinley had had enough.

"WHAT MAKES YOU FUCKING THINK THAT?!" he yelled. Daria didn't loosen her grip on him.

"You know how fast I can pick up languages. You haven't forgotten that, have you?" She was pretty defiant. The last time I'd seen Mr. McKinley like this was when he and Professor Bhegad had tem hcae rehto rof eht tsrif emit ni sraey.

Mr. McKinley swallowed. He looked over at Mrs. McKinley, who was crying uncontrollably while two interns tried to control her.

"Ask him when we can see Jack," Mr. McKinley finally said.

Daria turned and said something to him. How did she manage to pick up Arabic that quickly? Could she have used her time away from the rest of us to learn? Why didn't she say anything?

Why?

"We'll see him tomorrow at two o'clock," Daria said. "Let's go back to the hotel and get some sleep." She turned and thanked the intern. The intern said something back.

With a deep sigh, Mr. McKinley took Mrs. McKinley's arm and left.

Wait. Mr. YelnicKcm took Mrs. YelnicKcm's arm and not her hand? I thought Jack said that they were madly in love.

If they were, then they probably weren't anymore.

Daria, Marco, Aly, and I stood and followed after them, not caring about knocking other people down.


	11. Marco 3

I flopped down on the bed. It was 9:00 pm, and Mr. McKinley wanted us to go to bed. He seemed pretty angry. In fact, he was so angry he looked like he could kill someone in less than a punch.

That's how mad he looked.

Aly says her Mom says it's important to get sleep since it relieves psychological pain. About fifty percent, she said.

Well, my psychological pain hasn't been healed. For starters, the pain I'd felt ever since I'd learned that my parents didn't believe I was alive had hurt like mad. I couldn't sleep at night ever since, and I asked Mrs. McKinley to give me sleeping pills to help me. She refused.

"I don't want you to abuse them."

Really. She thinks I'd abuse them. Even though I'd probably need them to get to sleep so my pain can be healed.

I turned over and began to cry into my pillow, as I did every night. Why?

Why did my parents think I was dead? Why didn't Mr. and Mrs. McKinley let me talk to my parents to convince them it was me? Did they really think my parents would believe them if it was them and not me?

Did they?

It was hard knowing that I would never see my sister. I wish I had a better relationship with her.

I wish I could take back everything I'd said.

It was also just as hard knowing I wouldn't see my parents or hug them. Yes, me, a manly man, wants his parents to hug him.

Really.

And don't you dare make fun of me otherwise you are fucked for life guaranteed.

I'd been trying to resist a growing temptation to go back home using the Loculus of Flight. I'd done it before, and I can do it again.

And I don't give a fuck.

Life has been growing harder for me to live. Sometimes I wish life could just stop. No one understands what I'm going through. No one.

I remember being twelve and hearing "Everybody Hurts" on the radio. Dad told me I'd understand when I suffered. I didn't get it back then, but I do now. Everything going on gives the song a new layer of pain.

I closed my eyes. Tonight would be a long night.

And tomorrow was just another day of suffering.


	12. Daria 3

I opened my eyes to find myself beside Marco. His eyes were open, and they were red.

"Marco-" I reached my hand out but he turned over.

"Leave me alone Daria," he said. "Just leave me alone."

Even my best friend thinks I'm a freak. Everyone does because they apparently they can't live without Internet. What is the use in it? Other than to learn things, or to talk...

Crap. I forgot again. Is Internet on the phone or computer? Do you use a computer to talk to people by 'dialing' a number? Is the TV meant for Googling things? Or is it meant for listening to music?

Seriously, do we even need this stuff? Do we? I'm sure we can survive without it.

But to be fair, Internet does have a few advantages. For one, I can find online language tutorials quicker. That's why I picked up some languages so quickly.

Sometimes I wonder if it was worth leaving Babylon for the modern world. For one, I had no Nico, Frada, no one. It would've been nice to bring along a few of my friends but I wasn't able to convince them..

Now they're gone. Forever. Dead.

The days haven't been easy since it happened.

I turned over onto my stomach and placed my head in the pillow. If there was one thing I could be grateful for, it's the fact that I have friends.

That's the good thing.

Everything else is horrible.


	13. Jack 3

I groaned. My back was hurting badly. It felt like someone had kicked all over it and impaled me. That's just how bad it was.

Where was I?

The room was white, and the walls were draped with sheets.

That's what it appeared to be. My vision was blurry.

I tried to sit up, and for some reason, I was able to, despite the fact my back had hurt badly. Maybe it wasn't as badly injured as I thought it was.

I began to rub the lower part of my back to ease the pain. Daria said that that helps.

I groaned again, my eyes shut. I bent over to make it easier for me to reach my back.

"Jack?" That was Daria's voice.

I looked up and opened my eyes. She was standing right in the doorway. She looked like she'd run through a land mine. Her hair was a mess, and her eyes were red. She was wearing Star Trek PJ's that were covered with dirt.

Marco came in after. He looked equally as bad, only his eyes were more red and his face was tear streaked. Aly, Cass, and Mom and Dad followed.

"Jack!" Mom seemed so relieved to see me. She ran over and wrapped me up in a bear hug. She hugged so hard I thought my back would break in half.

"Mom," I said, my voice muffled. "Too tight."

"They say he'll be coming back in a week," said Aly.

"Yes," Dad said, "And they said he has a broken ankle and toe."

"Mom," I said. I could hear her cry. "You can stop now."

Mom moved away to give me some space. "Sorry," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "I'm just so relieved."

"We won't be getting the seventh Loculus," I looked at Aly. She looked almost exactly like Mom. "At least not for now.

"But that's okay since you're alive."

I managed a weak smile. In a week, I was going home, except with a broken ankle.

But I didn't really care. I was with everyone else. And I was alive.


	14. Aly 3

"How's your ankle?"

I kneeled down and began to rub. Jack had only been released from the hospital two days ago, and we were going back to the island tomorrow.

And maybe, just maybe, never leave.

"It hurts, so I would prefer if you weren't touching me in a weird way." Sarcasm.

"Fine," I said. I didn't want to do anything bad to Jack, and it wasn't because I was scared of his parents killing me. Ever since last week, they've been making a huge deal over literally everything. Especially his mom.

I stood up and crawled over to my suitcase. In there, there was a toothbrush, toothpaste, tampons, underwear, clothes, a comb, and everything else you need in order to live with the exception of food.

I closed the suitcase and dragged it to the doorway. Over there, Marco, Daria, Cass, Jack and his parents had already put their suitcases over there, ready for tomorrow.

I looked behind me as I dragged my shit over. Jack was leaning onto his crutches, waiting for me.

"Do you need help?" I asked, hoping for him to say yes.

"No. I can help myself." He turned and began to walk away. If you call walking using two crutches to help you to walk. "Thanks, though."

"Anytime." I forced a smile. "Anytime."

I looked away from him. Once I was sure he was out of the room, I dropped to my knees and began to quietly sob.

I hated this whole G7W thing so much. If it weren't for it, I wouldn't be in so much pain. I would've been like most girls, who can obsess over boys all they like. I wouldn't have to live away from my parents. I could be with Josh and hang out with all my friends back home. It would be a lot easier not to deal with Marco, who's been acting like an asshole since his parents refused to believe that he was alive. I wouldn't have to deal with a best friend who never hangs out with anybody. I wouldn't have to deal with a boy that I might have a crush on. I wouldn't be dealing with a doofus who spoke backwardish and an equally bad younger sister.

I stood up and wiped the tears away. Whenever I was like this, Mom would tell me to go to bed and sleep.

Maybe that's what's best for me right now. Sleep.


	15. Cass 3

I sat down next to Marco and belted myself. Today, Tork had come to pick us up and fly us home. We were using Slippy, Fiddle's plane.

I miss Fiddle. He shouldn't have had to die from a stupid fever. It was so bloody unfair. Sure, life doesn't always give you what you want, but still. Why couldn't I just be normal? I have criminal parents which I never got to visit, grew up in foster homes, had a crazy gene, and found out I had a sister I didn't even know about.

Seriously, why couldn't I be like other kids? Why?

To cheer myself up, I turned to Marco.

"How long is it going to be before we go home?"

He glared at me. "The plane's taking off in two minutes, idiot."

"Oh." I looked away.

"I know how you feel, Ocram," I said, turning around. "I know what it's like to not be with your parents who probably won't believe it's you. I do."

"You think I'm sad over my parents?" Marco smiled bitterly. "I'm not. I don't care if they think I'm dead. I'm better off without them."

"Okay, then." I looked at Jack and Mrs. McKinley. I sincerely don't believe that Marco thinks he's better off without his parents. No one with a heart would think like that. No one.

Even if they were stupid enough to believe they were going to be king or to fall for an enemy trick.

After learning his parents thought he was dead, I began trying to bond with Marco. So far it had been failing. I was beginning to think that maybe it was best to just stop since it probably wasn't going to work.


	16. Marco 4

Over the large sea, I could see a few sailboats and eagles.

We were up in an airplane. Torquin was flying us back to the island. He was flying a lot more gently than he usually would. The reason was because some prick kidnapped Jack and smashed his ankle. How that happened I'm not sure. I guess whoever did that beat him up.

I wasn't happy, as usual, though I was relieved about Jack living.

Cass keeps trying to get me to talk to him about my parents. What does he know? Sure, he has criminal parents, but they at least don't think he's dead. At least he can still call him and they wouldn't believe it's him but they at least don't think he's dead.

Whatever. I don't give a damn. I can live without them. They're probably better off without me anyway. In fact, everyone probably is.

About two hours later, I woke with a start.

Torquin came out of the cockpit. "On the island," he said gruffly.

I unbelted myself and stood up and stretched. We were back for more training to strengthen our G7W skills, more math, science, history, music, literature, etc.

Jack went off the plane first, him having crutches and all. He was having difficulty coming down the staircase so I offered to help him but Jack's mother said that Jack 'can do perfectly well without me.'

See? Everyone's better off without me.


	17. Daria 4

We resumed training on Monday.

Marco went to Mount Onyx for shooting hoops into a basket that was at least 90 miles high and boot camp. Before we'd left for Alexandria, Marco shot a hoop that was at least 89 miles high and literally managed to split it in half. No, really. That's how strong he is.

Nabu-na'id knows what Marco could have done to a seven foot high hoop.

Aly's job was to hack through a highly complicated firewall, which for a normal person, would take at least three weeks without having to stop.

Cass had to map all of the roads in Canada without using Google Maps. Literally all of them.

Jack needed to solve a thirty-nine sided Rubik cube.

Eloise's job was to lasso as many vizzeet as possible in less than an hour... and it takes an hour for a normal person to lasso a vizzeet. They know. They did an experiment with Torquin and it took him an hour to lasso a vizzeet, which really says something.

As for Aito, they were still trying to figure out his talent. Same with Camillo, Minnie, Jyoti, Fa, and the others, whose names I don't remember since I don't care.

Me? They were teaching me French, which is why I know so much of it. I had my training with Torquin, who said he'd teach me either Greek or Russian. Preferably Greek since I was very sure I'd know all of Russian when we were finished French.

I took out my binder and headed to Torquin's room, which is where I'd have my lessons. At first, Torquin would teach me in English but now he spoke to me entirely in French both in and outside of lessons. I'd spend about an hour with him and he'd give me homework, which was basically to learn something about French culture or history.

It was almost always like that.


	18. Jack 4

As of right now, I managed to figure out seventeen sides of the Rubik square Fritz built.

Seven minutes had passed. It was a little hard to solve the square but I was sure I could do it.

I looked at one of the sides I hadn't solved. It was likely to be turquoise. It must've been the gene that helped me figure it out.

I began moving the sides around. You might ask me: How? I can't tell you since it's a process so complicated I can't describe it.

After another three minutes, I had only two sides left to solve. About eleven minutes had passed at this point, and I wanted to finish it as soon as possible since I was a bit tired. I'd had a rough sleep last night, so at least you know why.

One side was red, and the other was black. They were right next to each other, so it wouldn't take long to solve it. I just had to move one square to the left and another to the right and then...

About less than a minute later, I'd solved the last two sides. To make sure I'd solved the entire puzzle, I checked all thirty-two sides. Yup. All solved.

I set the square onto the table right in front of me. I took one of my crutches in one hand and the square in the other.

I was ready to show the square to Dad.


	19. Aly 4

"What were French lessons like?" I asked Daria.

"They weren't too bad," she said, taking in some more scrambled eggs. "At the rate I go at, there's a good chance we'll be starting either Russian or Greek next week. Hopefully Greek since I already know a lot of Russian."

"How do you-"

"I'm going." Daria stood up. "I'll see you in history."

"Okay, then." Why was she always hanging out alone?

After a long history lesson on the American Revolution and Benjamin Franklin, another lesson on the slide trombone, followed by learning the Pythagorean theorem, I went up to my dorm. All I needed was some rest. And then, work on homework, which shouldn't take more than an hour and a half.

I lay down on the bed. Usually after school I would lie down for about half an hour, and then work.

After resting, I got off and went to my study desk. The first I would do is the Pythagorean theorem, then Shakespeare, then an essay on the American Revolution, and last but not least, work on my ability to play the slide trombone.

That was all the homework I had that day.


	20. Cass 4

"Little leg times big leg equals hypotenuse squared..."

It was hard to concentrate on what Yla was saying about the Naerogahtyp meroeht. I just wanted to work on mapping roads, which I had to admit, was really fun.

Around tomorrow, we'd have a test on the Naerogahtyp meroeht, which is Pythagorean theorem backwards. If we failed, then we'd do a repeat of it, which is a privilege we get to enjoy since we were homeschooled.

"What are you doing in math, big brother?" asked Esiole. "I'm learning to multiply with Aito and Jyoti."

"I'm doing the Pythagorean theorem," I said, looking forward to going upstairs and playing video games.

"That sounds like a loser thing that's hard," said Esiole.

"It's really not that hard."

"Really?"

"Really."

Esiole and I don't talk too often, though we do love each other. I guess that's what happens when you learn about a sibling you never knew you had.

"You go to science. I'll see you tonight. Talk to me if you need help."

"Okey-dokey." My little sister went skipping away.

Good thing that's over.


	21. Marco 5

It was a good Saturday morning, so I decided to go rock climbing up Mount Onyx.

I figured it would be easier to make Aly do the rest of my math homework since I just didn't care. It was just a bunch of multiplication stuff. I'd finished everything else, so did it really matter.

I chose not to tell anyone where I was going since the adults would find out and I'd get into trouble. To explain my absence, I told everyone I was going for a jog around the island so that's what they thought I was doing.

I needed to get away from everyone; my G7W abilities were driving me nuts. The other day I smashed the breakfast plate without even trying. The adults were behaving all weird. Mr. McKinley said something about 'security guards.' Cass was driving me nuts. He wouldn't leave me alone. Neither would Daria.

Around ten in the morning, I headed to the sport shed, which was near the House of Wenders. Inside the sport shed, you could find tennis and badminton racquets, birdies, balls, nets, hockey sticks, pucks, almost anything required for sports, really.

I turned on the switch inside the shed. Inside was a colossal of items. The rock climbing items were somewhere in the middle, I knew that. I'd used almost everything in the shed.

I went in and looked around. There it was. The rock climbing materials, which were sitting left of the volleyball equipment.

I picked up a hard hat, a harness that seemed big enough to fit me, a rope and a bowl of chalk. I took them outside and dumped them on the grass. I threw on the hard hat and the harness, then dumped the chalk onto my hands. I then carried the stuff inside and put it back where I found it.

All I needed now was a bottle of water, trail mix, and a first aid kit and then I'd be good to go.

After an hour of running through the jungle without needing to stop, I'd finally reached Mount Onyx. This was the very place where I nearly died from vromaski wounds. This was the place where we buried Fiddle, which was part of the reason I'd come here. This was the place where I fell into that lake that could cure people. So much had happened here.

I put the rope through the harness, then took the top of the rope and through it as high as I could. It looked like it went to the halfway point of the volcano. I checked to see if my bottle of water was still in the harness pocket. Still there. Hard hat? Check.

I took a deep breath in and out. I was ready.

After a half an hour climb, I'd made it to the halfway point. I figured this was a good time to take a break. I sat down on the edge and pulled out my trail mix and began chewing.

Around me, there were birds of all colours flying. Red, orange, turquoise, brown, blue, lots of them. They were flying in flocks. Above them, the sky was a brilliant blue with several cumulous clouds and cirrocumulus ones as well. The sun shined brightly. It was so bright, it was almost blinding.

Down below, I could see the campus with its red brick buildings and the Comestibule. I could also see the people walking around, doing the things they'd usually do. Surrounding the campus was the jungle, which was filled with trees.

All of this made me wish I'd brought my binoculars so I could sightsee. It would've been nice to get a better look at the view and the birds.

Maybe next time, I thought.

I put my trail mix back in my bag. I had my break for long enough.

I removed the hook tied to the rope and threw the rope as high it could possibly go.

What was I going to see up there?

More of the view, obviously.


	22. Daria 5

"When's Marco coming back?" Martin asked, checking his watch.

"He said he'd be away all day. He's running around the island," I said, not looking up from the French phrasebook I was making for Torquin.

"Then I'll go to the security room and track Marco's location through the tracker that's been surgically implanted." Martin left.

Something clicked. _Those trackers_. Why didn't we just contact the people on the island and have them track Jack down? That would've saved a lot of trouble.

"Martin!" I yelled, trying to get him to listen to me.

He turned around. "Why did you call me Martin when I expect to be called Mr. McKinley?"

"Listen, when Jack was kidnapped, why didn't we get the people on the island to track him down for us? You know, by calling them?"

"Are you questioning me?"

"No. It's just that I'm asking you something no one seems to have thought about."

"I expect to be treated with respect, young lady. And you can start by not calling me Martin."

"Why do you have an issue with it?"

"Because it's disrespectful! What part of that do you not understand?"

"I'm still adjusting to this world. I've spent most of my life growing up in Babylon on the streets. There are some customs I'm not used to."

"That technically isn't an excuse for that kind of behaviour."

My jaw dropped. How could he not understand? Didn't he grow up in the 1980s, which apparently was when no one had Internet?

Didn't he have to learn how to adjust to a world with Internet when the Internet thing was invented?

"I hope you think about it, Daria," Martin finally said. He left the room.

I'm pretty sure a lot of people wouldn't think the idea of being unable to tell the difference between a phone and a computer is funny at this point.


	23. Jack 5

"What's it like breaking an ankle?" asked Jyoti, who was with Eloise in her Grade 3 class.

"It's terrible," I said. Jyoti and I were taking the elevator for obvious reasons otherwise if you don't you're stupid.

"What does a broken ankle look like?" Jyoti asked as we got into the elevator.

"It's an ugly sight."

"How ugly?"

"Very ugly. It's so ugly you don't want to know."

"Does a doctor use a wrench to fix a broken ankle?"

Jyoti kept nagging me with these kinds of questions. It was so weird. What is it with little kids?

When we got to the top, Cass was waiting for us.

"Aly says everyone needs to go to the lobby because your dad wants to klat," he said.

"What is it about?" I asked. Jyoti ran ahead of me.

"Don't wonk." He shrugged.

"Is he there?" I asked.

"No. But if he sekat gnol,ew nac syawla yalp sdrac."

"English please."

"We can always play cards. Aly brought some over."

"Cool," I said.

I followed after him. I was eager to play cards.


	24. Aly 5

"I win," I took all the cards. I always won cards. It's because I'm the best at everything related to brains.

"Do you want to play donkey?" Cass asked.

"Alright." There were four of us-Daria, Jack, Cass, and me with 52 cards. 52 divided into four equals 13. Each of us would get 13 cards each.

"What are you doing?" asked Nirvana as she walked with Mr. and Mrs. McKinley.

"Playing donkey. We were waiting for you." I turned to the others. "Who goes first?"

"No one." Mrs. McKinley put her hands on the table. "Do any of you have an explanation for why Marco's tracker showed him to be at Mount Onyx?" She gave Daria a cold stare. "Do you? Because you were the one to tell my husband that Marco was running for the entire day."

"That's what Marco told me," Daria said, looking confused.

"No games or secrets, missy." She took Daria's hand. "We're going to talk, and Marco will join once the team gets him."

We all watched in silence as Mrs. McKinley dragged her out.

"Emag, enoyna?" Cass said. It was a second before I figured it out.

"No more Backwardish, young man." Mr. McKinley looked at us sternly. "You're way too old for such games. And there better not be any talking or donkey," he continued as he took our cards away. "Is that clear?"

"Yes," we all said in unison.

Ever since Jack's kidnapping, Mr. and Mrs. McKinley haven't been acting normal. I guess they're still scared. It'll blow over soon.


	25. Cass 5

When were Ocram (oops, I meant Marco since I'm too old for backward speaking) and Daria coming back?

Just that question and not being able to speak it drove me crazy. How long would we have to remain silent?

The silence seemed to have lasted a hundred hours though it may have been a few minutes. To pass the time, I began fiddling with my fingers. I stopped when Mr. McKinley gave me a cold dirty stare. If looks could kill I would be dead.

After what seemed like forever, Mrs. McKinley finally came back, holding Marco and Daria by their wrists.

"Did any of you know about Marco going to Mount Onyx?"

We all looked at each other. I'm very sure none of us knew. Even today, I still see it that way.

I was pretty convinced that Daria may have tried to get Marco to talk to her like I did, and maybe the others tried since I was convinced that everyone wanted to make Marco feel better. Looking back now, that may not have been the case. Jack's dad immediately recognized his voice when he first called him since Professor Bhegad took us. Same with Aly.

"No," Jack said, standing up on his own good foot. "I don't think so."

"He didn't tell me," I said in agreement. "I didn't know."

"And you expect me to trust the kid who speaks Backwardish at age thirteen?" Jack's dad gave me a really bad Htead Erats.

"You and I will talk after we're finished with this one conversation."

It was not going to a pleasant conversation. I could already tell.


	26. Marco 6

I placed my hand on Fiddle's grave, the dirt getting into my nails. In front of the grave, there were flowers. How did they get there?

Months ago, when we escaped Brother Dimitrios, Fiddle caught a fever and died. And it was my fault.

I'd been gullible enough to believe that he was right about the Karai Institute. That led to Jack and Cass taking Jack's mom's phone and them being able to track the phone to the island, which resulted in bombing the island. Professor Bhegad died shortly after. When we came back to the island, the remainder of the KI that had been able to escape fled to the jungle, where Fiddle got a fever and died as a result because they didn't have the medication.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "For everything."

Why the fuck was I speaking? The dead can't hear. Fiddle was dead. He couldn't hear. Every word was pointless.

I bowed my head down and shut my eyes close. I could feel tears crawling down my cheek. Tears of anger, sadness, and remorse. He didn't deserve it. Never has, never will.

I opened my eyes and looked down at the clamp of earth that rested in front of me. Beneath all of it, there was Fiddle. "Rest in peace," I whispered. "You deserve it."

I stood up. Next time, I thought, I'll bring flowers.

My work here was done. I had to go.

"Goodbye," I said.

For some reason, it felt wrong to turn my back to Fiddle's grave since it felt like turning my back to him. I remember when I first met him I came to like him and his plane, Slippy. He seemed to be a pretty cool person. Now he's gone.

I walked away, not turning my back to him until I reached the entrance.

I wasn't quite outside when I heard a helicopter. I looked up and saw one of the KI's helicopters, with a ladder coming down. Someone who appeared to be Torquin came down, since the weight seemed to be a strain on the ladder. That was confirmed when Torquin reached the bottom.

"McKinleys not happy," he said. "Meathead coming with me."

 **XXXxxxxxXxxXXXXXXxXXxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

I was sitting in my dorm. Mr. McKinley had told me I wasn't allowed to leave until he decided I could go.

So here I was, in solitary confinement.

All around me, portraits of me, my family, and friends with several medals stared down at me. Above my bed, there was a picture with me and my dad at age six. It was taken at a baseball game. Our team had won. Dad was really proud. I remember him lifting me up and telling me I was going to be the best athlete in the world when I grew older. G7W ensured that.

What I wouldn't give to see him again.

"Marco?" Nirvana.

I turned my neck around. The door was half open and Nirvana was standing, leaning her head in.

"What the fuck do you want?" I yelled.

"Listen," she said as she shut the door behind her. It was surprisingly gently for someone like her. "Everyone who used to work at the KI that is still living visits Fiddle's grave time to time. There's no need to feel guilty about it. It's not your fault."

"You think?!" I shot back, not wanting to look at her.

"If it were me that ran into Dimitrios then I would've done the same thing. I was like you when I was your age. Really." Nirvana sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I don't believe you." I didn't.

"Look, I know you feel guilty though you won't admit it. I also feel guilty because I treated Fiddle badly when I first came. He was the one who taught me. I was seven years old."

"Just leave me alone. I don't need anyone." No. I didn't mean it. I wish I hadn't said that.

I could hear Nirvana take a deep sigh. "If you need to talk, I'll be there." Moments later, the door closed gently.

What could Nirvana possibly know about what I was going through?

Unless...

Unless she had parents that didn't believe she was alive. Or parents who hated her.

I closed my eyes.

Was it possible that Nirvana could understand?

 _If you need to talk, I'll be there_ , she said.

Maybe she could. Maybe she did know.


	27. Daria 6

"Kids," Anne said. "Let's talk about what we were going to talk about yesterday."

Marco, Jack, Aly, Cass, and I sat into chairs. I could feel the wood brushing against my skin. Martin said Marco wasn't allowed to talk to us at all.

"Martin and I are hiring a security guard so that if we ever go back to Alexandria, which obviously won't be anytime soon, no one gets kidnapped. We would hate for that to happen again."

As she was saying this, she looked at Jack. I could tell what she was thinking about. Anyone who knew would.

"We also know who Jack's kidnapper was."

"Who?" we all cried in unison.

"Morty Reese," said Anne.

"I thought that guy looked like Morty Reese," said Jack. I raised my eyebrows at him. How was he able to recognize him after so long?

"How did you find out?" asked Aly.

"The security guard we hired told us he saw what happened. His name's Jon, for your convenience.

"Jon confronted Morty Reese and demanded that him to leave Jack alone. When Morty Reese told him who he was, Jon backed away and secretly followed after him. Jon's a very fast runner, so he was able to catch up with the vehicle. They took Jack to the hut and the goons left. Jon didn't know how to get in and was trying to figure it out when Jack burst through. He took Jack to the hospital after that.

"It may sound like there are few holes in the story, and that's because there is. But I think that was the best way Jon could put it. Like you, I am aware that a normal human shouldn't be able to catch up with a large vehicle that's travelling at a high speed. And Jon should've know where the door or at least have been able to break in since he's a really strong runner so he should have the strength to break the wood."

"Are you sure that Jon was telling the truth?" I asked. Growing up on the streets of Babylon, I learned that people tend to lie to protect themselves or to do something evil.

"I'm sure," said Anne, though for some reason she didn't sound sure. It could've just been me, or did she actually not trust him?

I think that today, Anne feels incredibly stupid for doing what she did. And that was because of what happened two years later, but let's not get into that now.

No spoilers will be allowed for this story.


	28. Jack 6

Time to meet your new security guard today, kids," Dad announced proudly as he led us toward the Comestibule.

"I hope he's nice," said Aito. "I hate mean people."

"Same," I said, having more than my fair share of mean people. You know what I mean.

To be honest, I had several doubts about that story of Jon. Something about it didn't add up.

"Here he is. Meet your new security guard, kids," Dad announced happily.

There was a bulky man with very heavily defined muscles sitting at the table. He was Caucasian with green eyes and a shaved head. For some reason, he reminded me of being kidnapped by Morty Reese.

Then it clicked: he looked an awful lot like one of those goons who helped the Morty take me hostage. Now that I remembered it a bit more clearly than I did before.

"Kids, meet Jon. Jon, meet the Select." Dad grinned proudly.

"No need to be afraid," Jon said, flashing what seemed to be an evil grin. His voice was deep. He seemed to look at me specifically.

"I let you guys take some time here to get to know your new security guard." I watched Dad leave.

"Let's talk," Jon said as he stood up and moved the table away. It was the worst screeching noise I'd ever heard. "We'll sit in a circle and introduce ourselves."

Yay. Kindergarten buddy time, I thought to myself.

This was going to be awkward.


	29. Aly 6

"My name is Aly Black. I come from Los Angeles, and I have an ability to hack into anything. Literally anything."

"Interesting," Jon said, nodding. "And you?" he said, pointing at Camillo.

"I'm Camillo. I'm nine years old and I come from the Philippines."

"What is your talent?"

"I don't know. They're testing me."

"OK, then. Your name?" He pointed to Cass.

"I'm Cass Williams, and I can map any sort of direction. I can olsa kaeps hsidrawkcab."

This went on for about another hour. By the time it was finished my ass was so cold I felt like I could get frostbite and it will fall off.

And that is something I'd rather you don't think about.

After Jon, everyone went up to their dorms.

Jack and I were taking the elevator when he looked at me and said

"That Jon guy looks like one of the men who kidnapped me."

I raised my eyebrows.

"There is something called a doppelganger," I explained as we got off. "It's when you have someone who isn't related to you but looks like you."

"That could be a possibility," he said thoughtfully.

We continued walking down the corridor when we reached Jack's door and stopped.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." I smiled.

I kinda liked him. I genuinely did.


	30. Cass 6

What the hell was I thinking? Speaking backwardish when I was specifically told not to. Then again, most people would have to hear me to believe me.

I kicked a Coke can across the pavement. Don't know where that came from. Don't care.

I get that the adults would make a huge deal over Marco going to Mount Onyx and not telling them but visiting Fiddle's grave? Not all of them knew him that well.

I haven't seen Ocram that much lately (oops, I meant Marco. I'd been keeping track of how often I spoke backwardish since Mr. McKinley told me I couldn't speak backwardish.)

I wanted to see Marco badly. These days were difficult. I was hoping to find some comfort. Everyone was like a sibling to me...and this is coming from the guy who didn't even know he had a sister and had issues.

What? Me trying to bond with Marco because he's like an older brother while I should be bonding with Eloise, who's my sister? Jesus Christ, what was wrong with me?

That one thought itself was enough to convince me to go to Eloise that night, tuck her into bed, and read a story.

I'll be honest here-that night, I tucked Eloise into bed.

"Do you want a bedtime story?" I asked, pulling out _The Princess and the Pea_ because girls love princesses, right?

To make a really long struggle short, Eloise DID NOT want me to read the story to her, so in the end I just said goodnight and did something I hadn't expected myself to do: I kissed her forehead.

That kiss would've been one of the first things that helped me bond with her.


	31. Marco 7

I took out one of my favourite books, _A Wrinkle in Time_ , by Madeleine L'Engle. I'd read it about fifty times at this point. Sometimes I would read it so often that I'd go for a month straight reading it only and nothing else. That was when I was innocent Marco, not radically changed Marco.

Innocent Marco was before G7W and before being kidnapped. Radically changed Marco was the moment I'd been taken by Bhegad.

The moment everything changed.

Then there was Cass. He was never going to understand. Add in Daria. The minute I saw her in the morning, I had a strange feeling in my chest. It was the sort of feeling that either told me something was wrong or I had a crush. Or both.

Have I even mentioned Nirvana?

Was it really possible that she'd understand? After all, it was hard to believe that the lady who slapped me, and liked music with dying in it would actually be a lot like me.

Or maybe she hadn't been lying. Nirvana seemed rather honest at times. Like she genuinely cared for me.

I hadn't talked to her yet. But maybe I could. After all, there was one thing we had in common: we both felt guilt over Fiddle's death. Nirvana because apparently she treated him badly at first, me because of how I was so stupid to have fallen for Dimitrios, which led to a lot of bad things. I also felt guilt over Bhegad because again, that was my fault.

Sometimes I wondered if Nirvana and Fiddle had a thing for each other, though they were born fifteen years apart. I'd see her kiss his cheek a few times. Not to mention her talking about love to him...

 _Snap out of it, Ramsay_ , I thought to myself. _Everyone is scum. They're all worthless._

What was wrong with me? One part of me wants to be with other people, and the other wanted to get away from everyone because they were scum.

I'm so messed up.


	32. Daria 7

It was May. About three weeks ago, Jack had been kidnapped and had a broken ankle. Yet for some reason, it felt like things had gone on the way it was supposed to if it hadn't happened. With the exception of the security guard, Jon.

The day we met him, I overheard Jack tell Aly that Jon looked like one of his captors. Aly told him about something called a 'doppelganger,' which is someone who looks like you but isn't related to you.

I was very sure that wasn't an English word. I'd have to ask Torquin after my French test, which I was sure I wasn't going to fail. Although it wasn't like that was going to stop me from studying, since karma can be a bitch.

Speaking of tests, we'd all had a Pythagorean theorem test a couple of weeks ago. Now we were on to fractions. And it was learning to add, subtract, multiply, and divide them, which I was pretty sure was hard. It didn't help that I couldn't understand what Martin was saying. I asked for help and he tells me it's not that hard, so I should understand.

God, I was beginning to hate Martin. He was so rude. Jack says he's a good person, but he was mean to me.

That's how I felt back then. But not anymore.

I didn't understand back then, but I do now.


	33. Jack 7

."Where are you going, Marco?" I asked as I watched Marco dump his food into the trash can. There was a loud scraping sound as he used his knife to get anything sticky off.

"I'm just going to...read a book." He didn't look at me.

Read a book? That wasn't like Marco. He always liked sports and thought books were stupid. Kind of like the stereotypical jock, if you think about it. Doesn't suffer, no emotion, yeah.

"Okay, then."

"Why is Marco going up to his bedroom these days?" asked Cass.

I shrugged and continued eating my chicken soup. Things were strange these days. And it wasn't just Marco going up to his room.

"Do you think something is off about Jon?" I asked. "He looks like one of my captors."

"Really? That's interesting."

"Aly said he could be a doppelganger of one my captors but I'm not sure."

"What's a doppelganger?"

"A doppelganger is someone who looks like you but isn't related to you." I continued slurping my soup. Everything around me was cold, especially the bench we were sitting on.

"Other than the fact that Jon made us sit like kindergarteners, no."

Crap. I'd forgotten what we were talking about. What was it again? Oh yes, Jon.

"What's the worst thing you can say about Jon?" I asked Cass, out of boredom. I think I said it too loudly, because I could see Minnie looking at me.

"What's the worst thing you can say about who?" I felt a rough, large hand settle on my shoulder. Shit. Jon.

"Nothing," I murmured quietly, looking down at my chicken soup.

"Better not be me," he whispered into my ear.

I looked up at Cass. He was trembling with fear. The look on his face was enough to say that it was best not to talk.

And I felt the same way.


	34. Aly 7

"Jack," I said, shutting the door behind me. Jack looked up from his lap. His crutches were sprawled out on the floor, and his broken foot was on his pillow, while his good foot was on the floor.

"What?" he said.

"That kiss," I said. "Did you do it because you love me, or did you intend for it to be on my cheek or forehead?"

"Um..." He pursed his lips, looking to his right.

"Uh, yes... I like you, and I kind of want to play you like a flute," he mumbled, sounding... odd.

"Okay." I was freaked out. He said he wanted to play me like a flute. Did that mean he wanted to sleep with me? I could feel my hands leaving the wood of the door and moving up to my chest.

"You said you wanted to play me like a flute," I spoke awkwardly. "Does that mean you want to sleep with me?" I cupped my hand over my mouth, realizing what I just said.

"I said I wanted to play you because I couldn't figure out a better way of saying, 'I love you, Aly.'"

I could feel my hands touching my chest again.

I could feel tension... and steam rising up.

"I guess I'll go now." I opened the door, exited, and shut it behind me as hard as I could.

"Jesus, Aly. You're going to wake the dead." Marco the Asshole.

"Why do you say that?" I snapped, not knowing why I did it.

"Because I am." I watched him walk away.

 _Thank god that's over,_ I thought to myself.

I needed to get back to my room. At least it might mean not seeing Jack for the rest of the day.


	35. Cass 7

Aly looked pretty shaken up when she was around Jack.

In fact, I was starting to wonder if there was something going on between them. Something like love.

That's what it looked like to me.

I spread the map of Canada out. I wanted to map the roads because of how much fun it was. I'd finished with Nova Scotia, now it was Prince Edward Island, which, if I remember correctly, was named after a prince. (Guess who?)

Usually, I would start with the capital city of every province/state. The capital of Prince Edward Island is St. John's, so that's where I had to start.

Within minutes, I'd figured out half of the roads in St. John's.

"Huzzah!" I whispered rather loudly.

"Hey Cass. What you doing?" That sounded like Nirvana. She sat down next to me.

"I'm mapping the roads in St. John's," I said cheerfully.

"How interesting. Listen, if there's anything wrong, you can talk to me. I'm more than happy to act as a therapist to all of you."

I looked up. I must've looked like I was surprised (which, not going to lie, I was), because Nirvana looked at me and said

"There's nothing to be afraid of."

Then she got up and left.

Was there anything wrong with me?

No. Of course not.

Or was there?


	36. Marco 8

Nirvana had said if I needed to talk to her, she was always open.

And here she was, now.

I took a deep breath in and out.

"Nirvana?"

"What?" She turned around and looked at me in the eye.

"You said I could talk to you if I needed to. Can we go somewhere private?"

"Sure. I'll just get some coffee and then we'll go to me and Fiddle's room," she said as she held a plastic cup in front of the coffee machine.

How would Nirvana react when I told her how I feel about my parents. which was what I needed to talk to her about? (I'd been needing to for a while.) How would she feel when I asked her if she had been in love with Fiddle?

"Let's go, Marco."

I snapped out of my thoughts. "Okay, then."

"I won't tell anyone what you're going to tell me if you don't want me to."

"I don't," I said as we walked down the corridor.

"I won't, then."

We left the Comestibule and walked through the campus. You could see red buildings, people walking about, animals, and trees. Lots of them. Mostly palm trees. Above us, there were birds, which blended in perfectly with the bright, blue, and cloudless sky above us.

"We're almost there, so don't get impatient," she said as we trekked the pavement.

What made her think that?

 **XXXXXXxxxXxXXXXxxXXXXXXXXXXXxxxxxXxXxxxx**

"Alright, where do you want to start?" Nirvana asked as I flopped into a beanbag chair.

"My parents," I said begrudgingly.

"Okay, spit it out."

I was hesitant, but the look in Nirvana's eyes told me it was perfectly safe.

"I've been feeling bad ever since I learned my parents don't think I'm alive. It feels so bad to know that I may never see them again. There are so many things I want to tell them; how I've been, what happened. I just would like to visit them, even for a second."

"It feels like the world's against you."

I nodded.

"I've felt like that, too."

"I remember being six and winning a baseball game." I swallowed, then continued. "My dad lifted me up into the air and told me I was going to be the best athlete in the world."

"And you are."

"If only he could see me. What's it like for him now?"

"It's probably very difficult."

"I'm so tempted to use the Loculus of Flight and fly myself back home so I could just see my parents for a month. I'd give all of my fingers just to see them."

"Mm-hm."

"Is it bad that hurts so much that I can't cry about it sometimes?"

"No. It may sound crazy, but no."

I raised my eyebrows.

There was something I'd forgotten. What was it?

It suddenly clicked: _Fiddle_.

"Were you and Fiddle in love with each other? Because I saw you kiss his cheek once."

Nirvana looked surprised, and at the same time, angry and upset.

"Can I trust that you won't tell anyone what I'm going to tell you?"

I nodded as fast as I could.

"Yes, I was in love with Fiddle. It started when I was sixteen. He was thirty-one."

She sat down and leaned onto her knees.

"It was a rainy day," she began.

 **If you guys hadn't seen my profile page yet, then it's best that you know that I'm going to write a FiddlexNirvana fanfiction. It's going to be more detailed than _No Secrets_ in terms of certain relationships. If I was able to I'd include the details of Nirvana and Fiddle's relationship in ****_No Secrets_ along with more on Cass and Eloise's relationship, MarcoxDaria, and of the other Select, but it would make the story a lot longer than it should be so I'll do separate fanfics once I'm finished _No Secrets_. Before I start writing _Fiddle and Nirvana_ , should I base the chapters off of songs like I do in _Wonder Songs_ or should I use an entirely different format altogether? Same with _The Two Of Us_ (MarcoxDaria). Answer in the review section if you want to say anything. Anyhow, keep on reading, because you guys are awesome. You rock.**


	37. Daria 8

I woke up. Today was December 25th. Christmas Day.

I rolled out of bed and landed face down on the hard wood. It was cold, and it didn't hurt too much.

I helped myself up. Anne wanted to do a 'Secret Santa' thing where we had to draw a name out of a box. Whoever's name we drew would be the person we gave a gift to.

I picked Luca's name. Luca was one of the other Select. He was ten years old, but about 5'4, which is supposedly very tall for an eleven year old. He is 'African-American,' sort of like Fa and Kunda, who were eleven year old twins. Like some of the Select the Massa recruited, we didn't know their talents yet.

I'm only a year older than Luca.

I didn't know him that well, so I decided to go to Brutus and ask him for a bag of chocolate chips out of lack of a better idea. He agreed, though he gave me a strange look when I asked. I had no wrapping, so I used an old _Star Wars_ poster to wrap it.

Around noon yesterday, I put the chocolate chips underneath the tree beside the other twelve gifts that lay there. As I set it down, I wondered who my 'Secret Santa' was. All I could do was hope it wasn't one of the younger kids, Eloise in particular.

I hoped Luca wouldn't kill me over chocolate chips. And I was hoping to like mine.


	38. Jack 8

"Merry Christmas," Mom declared as she set the red turkey onto the table.

"Same to you," said Jyoti, who sitting next to me. Her long black hair, which fell to her waist, tied in a messy bun.

"What do you mean by 'same to you?'" I asked as I took some pieces of the gingerbread house for myself.

"I mean that I wish Merry Christmas to your mother too. You didn't understand? Why?"

"I forgot." Where did 'same to you' come from?

It was a great time. I learned Jyoti had an unusual talent for poetry, which could've been her G7W talent. She comes from Boston, Massachusetts and lived in an apartment with several other people. Apparently her parents would sometimes give up meals so she and her brothers could have food to eat. They're pretty close. In fact, they still talk to each other.

 **XXxxXxxXxxXxxxXXxxxxxxxxXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx**

I opened my Secret Santa present. It was a _Star Trek_ poster. What was _Star Trek_? I didn't watch that. Guess whoever was my Secret Santa in a pretty huge _Star Trek_ fan. Maybe it was Aly. She likes old shows. _Star Trek_ was probably some old show.

"Kid, what you got?" Jon asked as he folded his arms across his chest.

"A _Star Trek_ poster," I said, rolling up the poster and putting it under the bed.

"Hmm. Listen, do you want to sleep with Aly? I've got the condoms."

I turned around. "What makes you think that? We're only fourteen for Christ's sake!"

"Then why did you tell her you wanted to 'play her?'"

When did I tell her I wanted to play her?

"To be specific, you said you wanted to play her like a flute."

It clicked. I knew what he was talking about.

My jaw dropped open. If it was at all possible, it would have hit the lime green carpet, which was beginning to wear out.

"How did you know that? I swear we were alone in my bedroom and I don't think you were there."

He put his hand on my shoulder. "I know a lot of things, kid. Even some things you wouldn't want me knowing."

"Look, you're not spying on me, right? Because it's illegal."

"Me? Spying? _Of course not!_ "

He let go of my shoulder. "I just overheard you."

Why would Jon be in our corridor?

"But why were you-"

"I was just looking around. I wanted to see the buildings."

"Didn't my parents give you a tour? And if even if they didn't, you could've asked."

Jon just shrugged. "I guess you're right. Enjoy your Christmas, Joey."

As he left, I shouted, "It's Jack, not Joey!"

If he'd overheard us, why did he wait so long to confront me about it?


	39. Aly 8

It was 11:59 a.m. on New Year's Day. It would mean starting my sixteenth year and ending my fifteenth one.

How dreadful. Now I'd have to start learning to cook my own food, which Mrs. McKinley said I should've learned at age thirteen and a half, which was apparently when she was going to teach Jack.

"You're going into adulthood, Aly. It's best to start learning before you go out into the world alone," she said.

I did understand. I did. But why did we have to start now and not when we were sixteen, which is when we're old enough to live on our own?

Why?

I already had to clean up after myself, which wasn't too hard, though it was still a chore. Compared to the others rooms-particularly Marco's, my room looked like a home for angels, which really says a lot, considering the amount of dust that lays around. It was so thick, mice could fix lollipop sticks to their feet and ski or snowboard on the dust like snow. It was literally that bad. Not that I cared. It was still clean by my definition.

"Screw chores," Jack seethed under his breath.

"You know my pain. I hate having to clean my room. I only vacuum the carpet. I don't even bother wiping the dust off. It's so thick that mice could ski or snowboard on it if they were able to put lollipop sticks on their feet," I said, looking at the clock. 12:00 a.m. Another twelve hours and it would be a new year.

Jack laughed. "I don't believe that. I haven't seen your room since...forever. Literally."

"Fifteen bucks on the dust part." I grinned cheekily.

"I'm pretty sure I'm right." Jack grinned.

To make a long story short, I'd been laughing for hours. You should've seen the look on Jack's face when he saw the dust in my room. With a very red face, he handed over the fifteen bucks. We both left my room, me laughing, him fuming. Mr. McKinley noticed this, and Jack told him the entire story.

As expected, he didn't believe it, so Jack took him up to room. When he came back, the first thing he told me was that after the New Year's celebration, I had to wipe the dust so no mice would be seen skiing or snowboarding.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!" shouted Eloise as she threw streamers up in the air. One landed on Cass.

"Watch where you throw, little sis," he said, moving it out of the way.

"Sorry. I'm just so excited," Eloise said excitedly, picking up a noisemaker and honking through it.

"So am I." Cass smiled warmly at his younger sister.

All of us were.


	40. Cass 8

**January 2nd.**

For some weird reason, Eloise thought it would be a good idea to give me a diary for Christmas. I don't know what she was thinking. Probably comes from the fact that she's a girl. And girls like girly stuff. (Duh.)

I love Eloise and all, but I'm so embarrassed about the gift. If some sissy catches me writing in it, then I'll never hear the end of it from Marco.

Speaking of Marco, he seems to be returning back to his old self. It's been happening since November. He's also been hanging out with Nirvana a lot lately for some weird reason. Maybe he has a crush on her.

I'll ask him one of these days.


	41. Marco 9

"Did you sleep with Nirvana?" Jack asked. I spat out my Coca-Cola.

"What the fuck? No!" I shook my head and took another sip.

"Cass says you're spending a lot of time with her? Why?"

Lately Cass had started bugging me about Nirvana. I'd begun to consider telling him but then I'd remember my promise to her.

 _Can I trust that you won't tell anyone what I'm about to tell you?_

I'd made a promise to her. And I couldn't afford to break it. Especially since she was my best friend.

But look on the bright side. If I told someone, maybe it would help people understand that an eighteen year old and a thirty-three year old dating isn't exactly the same thing as a thirty-three year old forcing an eighteen year old to have sex or raping them. It isn't.

Then again, telling them may not make a difference.

 _When I first kissed him, Fiddle said that I couldn't tell anyone because everyone would think he was a pedophile even though I was eighteen, therefore old enough to marry him._

 _And the best way I can put it is this: what if I were an eighteen year old male and Fiddle was female?_

That question began finding its way into my head. If the genders were reversed, what would be the case? Would people think that the thirty-three year old female was a pedophile at all? Would they call it rape even if the eighteen year old male had willingly agreed to have sex or date the woman?

Would they?

I pushed the thoughts out of my head. I could think about them tonight. Best not to worry myself about it now, when someone may notice.

Another thing that's on my mind is my parents (obviously). When I was twelve, I'd read _Will Grayson, will grayson_ by John Green and David Levithan. After I'd read it, I went up to my sister Kandyce, who was fifteen. She was washing the dishes. I remember bubbles rising up.

"I feel like authors include too much of homos," I said. I sat in a chair. "I just read _Will Grayson, will g_ _rayson,_ and the authors made everyone gay! People do that too much these days."

"You think?" said Kandyce. She turned away from the dishes. Her apron was covered with water and wet soap, and her face was stained. Her copper hair was tied in a messy bun, and her blue eyes were as icy as ever (as always). "Let me tell you something about good stories, Marco. They shouldn't raise answers. They should raise questions. The best stories always do that. The worst raise answers and not questions. No story should ever do that."

She turned back to the sink. "I want you to think about that the next time you read a story."

After that, I'd finish a book and think to myself, _did that raise questions_? Yes or no? If it didn't, then it wasn't a good story. That's how I would know.

That moment was one of the few times Kandyce and I hadn't been fighting with each other.


	42. Daria 9

"So, um, Marco." I could feel sweat dripping down my face. "You know Valentine's Day is next week, and there's a dance, right?"

Marco raised an eyebrow. He looked kind of suspicious. "Yeah. So?"

I swallowed. Maybe this was a bad idea. Marco would probably say no to me. I half-expected it. I'd been extremely tempted to use my computer to email Marco and ask him out to the dance but I knew it would be better if I'd just went with human interaction, no matter how unpleasant.

I sighed and shut my eyes closed, and said it as fast as I could.

"WIllyougototheValentine'sdancewithme?" I opened my eyes and began praying. Nervously, I started chewing on my lip, the dry skin peeling off.

Marco scratched his head. "Okay, then."

"So you're going with me?"

"Yes," he said reluctantly.

"So I'll see you, uh, next week." I watched him sprint away.

"OK."

That went a lot better than I expected.


	43. Jack 9

"May I have this dance?" I bowed down and held out my hand. I looked at Aly and smiled. She smiled at me back.

"It wouldn't hurt," she said as she moved her torso from side to side and twirled a lock of hair. She held out her arm.

Aly was the belle of the ball that night. She was wearing a sleeveless pink dress that ended above her knees. She wore gloves that ended at her elbows. They were also pink, which suited her dress perfectly well. Her hair was coiffed and there was a pink headband with a faux rose attached to it. She looked good, as I believed she would before the dance.

I wanted to look good for her too, so I wore a tux. We both looked good, by my definition.

I took her hand and kissed it.

"I hope you don't mind." I rose up and took both hands. The song they were playing was a slow song, so I'd have to put my hands on Aly's waist. I didn't what song it was, but it wasn't like that mattered.

I put my hands around Aly's waist. She put her hands on my shoulders. Very slowly, I led her around the room. I could feel the silkiness of her gloves. God, it was so good. It made me want to force her onto a bed and take off her clothes. I don't know why.

"Are you enjoying this?" I rested my forehead against hers. I could feel a lot of sweat. She was nervous. Or so I thought.

"Yes." Was she lying?

"You're nervous, right?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Why are you sweating so much, then?"

She smiled cheekily. "I forgot my deodorant." She giggled.

I smiled back. This was a really good night. Maybe I could ask Aly out on a date.

"Kiss me," I whispered.

"Not until the thousand days have passed up," she whispered back.

"A thousand days? What do you-"

I remembered. When I kissed Aly almost a year ago, I'd made her promise to tell me when a thousand days had passed. It was so I could know that I was still alive.

"Have you forgotten?" She raised her eyebrows in curiosity... and concern.

I shook my head. "I remember now."

Aly nodded. "Okay."

I could hear my stomach rumbling as our bellies rubbed together. "Do you want to eat something?"

Aly shrugged. "I don't mind grabbing some grub."

I took her hand and led her outside the room. In the hall, there were hot dogs and sandwiches.

I took a beef hot dog and put some ketchup and relish on it. Aly took a Polish hot dog and put mustard and relish on it. Around the corner, there were a few chairs, so we took a seat.

Aly took a bite out of her hot dog. She'd removed her gloves and placed a napkin on the skirt of her dress so they wouldn't get dirty.

"Let's talk," I said, taking a bite out of the hot dog.

Except I didn't know what to talk about.


	44. Aly 9

I was laughing hysterically like a drunk woman as I climbed up the stairs clumsily. If you'd seen me, you'd think I was a mad woman. It was such an amazing night. Holding Jack's hand, dancing with him, and his hands on my waist. What was not to like about him? He was the perfect boy for me.

"Aly."

I could hear my dad's voice behind me.

"Are you alright?"

I took in a deep breath to stop myself from laughing...only to end up laughing more. I laughed so hard I fell over and hit my head on the floor. It did hurt, but not much.

"YES I AM!" I screamed. I laughed more hoarsely.

I could see Dad's angry face looming over me. "You're not drunk, are you?"

I took a couple more deep breaths. It was only then that I was finally able to stop laughing.

"No," I said, breathing hoarsely.

"Good." He held out his hand. I took it and helped myself up.

"You look angry," I said, wiping my dress to get the dirt and dust off.

He pursed his lips. "I am. And it's not at you. It's at Jack."

I raised my eyebrows. "Why?"

"He kissed your hand. Your mother saw. She's okay with it, even though you're not allowed to date anyone yet."

"Why is Jack kissing my hand such a big deal?"

"I'm scared he'll hurt you! Aly, I'm going to talk with him, and I don't want you interfering."

I watched him go past me.

"Dad, wait-"

I was going to stop him, but then I thought again. When Dad got angry with someone, it would be best if that person took his wrath, because if they didn't, then it would end being even worse than before. Besides, when Dad gets angry, it could take him as little as an hour for him to forget why he was even angry in the first place. I know first-hand. He's been angry with me before, and it was ugly, but he always forgot after an hour.

Jack could handle it, right?


	45. Cass 9

"And it's too bad you haven't met Fiddle," I gushed as Jon examined the map of Canada and all of her roads I'd made. "He's dead. Died from a fever."

Jon nodded and rolled up the map. He handed it back to me. "You should be glad Fiddle is dead."

My jaw dropped. How could anyone say that Fiddle deserved to die? He was too much of a good person to have deserved it. Sure, he was a bit cold at times, but he was great. I was so angry at what Jon said that I wanted to punch him.

"How could you say that?" I stood up, my anger rising. "He was a great person! He didn't deserve to die. You don't even-"

"Nirvana told me Fiddle was a pervert."

What? I never heard anything like that. How was Fiddle a pervert? He never showed any interest in her. She didn't seem like the kind of person who'd been raped by a pervert.

Or was she but chose not to tell?

"When did she say that?" I sat down, interested.

"It was a few months ago. Nirvana was telling Marco she and Fiddle married about ten years ago in a private ceremony. He'd proposed to her and she accepted.

"They were born fifteen years apart. And Nirvana, as of right now, is thirty-nine. That would make her twenty-nine when she was married and Fiddle forty-four."

And _how_ exactly could we tell that it was true? That Fiddle and Nirvana were actually married? That Fiddle forced her to marry him?

And _why_ would Nirvana tell Marco of all people?

"Fiddle's not the only person who probably shouldn't have been working with children. There's Lisa, who used to work as a first grade teacher in a private school but was fired for teaching the kids about transsexuals and homosexuality."

"Isn't it bad to teach small kids about homosexuals?"

"It is bad." Jon leaned in closer, his bald head meeting with mine. "There's more to tell you. You'll wish you were with the Massa after this."

I listened intently.

He began to tell me more.


	46. Marco 10

I put my arm around Daria. "We'll work this out," I promised.

We'd been dating for seven months, and yet for some reason, it felt like neither me nor Daria actually loved each other. It was like a friendship where neither friend liked each other. I enjoyed the kisses at first, but for some freaky reason, the magic had worn off after a week. Why? Maybe it was the fact that we really didn't like each other.

Or maybe we did. It's just that we didn't want to admit it.

* * *

"It always feels like I just want to have sex with her. I never want to talk with her, I never want to hold hands."

"Then maybe you're not in a good relationship. Maybe it's time to split up."

Nirvana and I were in her bedroom. We'd never talk in mine because Jack and Aly's parents were hanging around their doors. Nirvana didn't want them to think anything funny was going on. At this point, Nirvana was the person I trusted the most. There were things I could tell her that I wouldn't tell anyone else. Things like my parents. The pain was still ripe, though it didn't bother me as much as it used to. Just because it didn't bother me the way it used to didn't mean I wasn't tempted to use the Loculus of Flight.

"Do you know how to tell someone that you don't want to date them anymore?"

Nirvana leaned forward and rubbed her chin. "It's best to do it face to face. You want to be polite; after all, if it was you being dumped, then how would you prefer to be dumped?"

"I'd want it to end on a good note," I said after thinking about it for a couple of minutes.

"If I were you, I'd practice in front of a mirror. It's always helped me."

I looked up. "You've had boyfriends before Fiddle?"

"Yes."

I looked at the black clock that hung on the wall. _8:30 p.m_ , it read. Curfew.

"I'll go now," I stood up. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Nirvana nodded. "Alright."

* * *

I breathed heavily as I leaned on the cold marble counter. No. There was no way I could tell Daria that I wanted to break up with her face to face. What would she say? Would she cry right in front of me? Would she hit me? Would she try to kill me?

I wouldn't have to know the answer if I went with text message. Besides, it would probably be a lot easier on her, right?

* * *

I trembled with the phone in my hand. Slowly, my thumb hit the letter _D_. I could feel the sweat on the cold metal. As of right now, I'd only been had one letter punched into the text.

 _Come on Marco you lazy ass. You can do this. You're a man._

I punched in another letter. _B_. It was supposed to be A. It was because of my shaky hands.

More sweat rolled down my cheeks. My hands shook harder.

 _It's best to do it face to face._

Should I take Nirvana's advice? After all, it may be a lot better for me in the long run. It would be easier to communicate with her after we broke up.

Would it?

No. I was too weak to be able to tell her face to face. Besides, that's what computers were for! Communicating when you're too afraid to confront someone face to face.

Was it?

What I hadn't noticed was at that point, my hands shook so hard the phone slipped out of my hands and landed on the floor, breaking the glass into a million pieces.


	47. Daria 10

"Marco!"

I ran up to my boyfriend, who was talking to Jack. These days he'd been avoiding me. Why? So not sure.

I crashed into Aly. Her red hair was tied back into a ponytail.

"Woah, Dars. Watch where you're going," she said, brushing her pants even though there was no visible dust.

"Do you know where Marco is? He's been avoiding me these days."

She shrugged. "Don't know." Then she leaned in. "I ship you and Cass."

"Cassius Williams? What the fuck?"

I could not imagine me and Cass dating. It just seemed wrong.

She smiled. "Come on, it's not a big deal." She grabbed my arm. "Jack has a crush on me! He's so hot." We both sat in one of the chairs at the picnic table.

"Do you like him, too?" I asked, taking in a sip of water from my canteen. "You did say he was hot."

"He is! There's this bishie sparkle in his eyes that makes him so attractive. And there's his pecs. They make him look so strong."

I kept on listening to her fangirl over Jack.

Good grief. She'd given me a headache.

Here's the short version of this: Anytime I tried to bring up Marco, she would just go back to fangirling over Jack's pecs or how she ships me and Cass.

That should be enough.

* * *

 **Aly said that she ships Daria and Cass. Sorry, but there will be no shipping fics on them. If you like the shipping, then I encourage you to make your own fanfiction on it, but please don't troll me on this. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**


	48. Jack 10

"Bro, you and Aly should get laid."

Marco and I were arm wrestling. I don't know why I chose to arm wrestle with him. It was obvious he would win, what with G7W and all that.

Right now, I was telling him about my crush on Aly, and how she seemed to like me back. I was trying to get some relationship advice from him since he was dating Daria. He would know, right?

"Did you get laid with Daria?" My hand hit the steel. I could feel blood trickling.

"No. I didn't. Daria's almost fourteen."

"Then why are you advising me to do it?"

He shrugged. "It's a way of expressing love."

"Why didn't you and Daria get laid?"

"She didn't want to do it. She told me."

"What if Aly doesn't want to get laid with me?"

"Ask her again another time. If a girl says no, it's no."

* * *

"Marco and I were arm wrestling." Nirvana was wrapping a bandage around my hand.

"You do realize that was a bad idea?"

"I know. It was stupid."

Nirvana put the pin in place to keep the bandages from unraveling. "Don't do it again," she cautioned, waving her long black fingernail at me.

"I won't." I ran out of the room.

* * *

I sat up. The clock read _12:07 a.m._ I was too tired to back to sleep. Beside me, Cass was snoring loudly. Loudly enough to wake up an elephant. Not that I ever saw one.

Suddenly Cass started moving. I heard footsteps on the carpet. Cass was getting up.

"Cass, do you think something is wrong with Jon?"

He turned on the lights. I blinked, blinded by the brightness.

"Something wrong with Jon? Well, yeeah." He thrust himself onto the mattress. "He told me Fiddle was a pervert."

"Fiddle? A _pervert?_ " I tried to widen my eyes, but since the lights were so bright, it was hard.

"He told me Fiddle and Nirvana were married. About twelve years ago. When Nirvana was twenty-nine and Fiddle forty-four."

This was interesting. Why didn't I know that Fiddle and Nirvana had been married? Did any of the adults know? Did Fiddle rape Nirvana? Or were they dating?

"How did he know?"

"He said Nirvana told Marco this stuff."

"Why would Nirvana tell Marco only?" I said before I even realized I was saying it.

Cass shrugged. "I've got a ton of even weirder examples. This one time, Eloise, Jyoti, and Minnie were talking about nail polish and they wanted me to wear some."

I raised my eyebrows.

"That was a year and a half ago. Anyhow, they dragged me into it and I only agreed to put on clear nail polish to make them happy.

"Some how, Jon went up to me, and told me about the nail polish thing. He asked me if I was gay. I told him I wasn't."

I was astounded. It's the twenty-first century; shouldn't people know that just because a man wears nail polish doesn't mean he's gay or trans?

Cass seemed to have read my mind. "I know. It's crazy." He got up. I watched him clumsily walk to the door.

"I have a story too!" I yelled. Cass was going to turn the lights off.

"You do?" He sat down cross-legged.

"One time, Aly went into my room, and we talked for a bit. I told her I wanted to play her like a flute.

"I didn't know that meant you wanted to have sex with someone. I ran into Jon, and he told me if Aly and I wanted to have sex, then he had the condoms."

Cass's jaw dropped.

"And that's not all. When I was in crutches, Jon sat beside me at the Comestibule and told me I needed to get out of my mom's basement since I spent an hour drawing in my bedroom.

"I told him I was stressed and it was my way of dealing with it. He told me a real man doesn't deal with stress like that."

"Jack, can we go back to sleep? You're starting to creep me out."

I pulled the blanket over my shoulders. "Same."

"I'm going to the bathroom. Just so you know."

Something fishy was going on. I could tell.

Above me, the lights went out. The door shut.

I tried to go to bed, but the idea of something not being right with Jon was tugging at the strings of my brain.

I couldn't sleep for the rest of the night.


	49. Aly 10

"When did you become this person, Aly?"

"What?"

I was resting my head on Mom's shoulder. We were sitting on a couch, watching the crowning of Miss Universe. I was eating popcorn and drinking Coke.

"When did you go from the sweet girl that didn't like boys to the girl that now has a boyfriend?"

"Huh?" I looked at Mom. What was she trying to say?

"Forget that I said that." She looked back at the TV. "You won't understand. Not until your own children are teenagers."

"OK." I became this person when Jack asked me out; was that so hard to understand?

* * *

I was bored, so I decided to hack into Jon's Facebook account. I didn't even need to enter his password to get in.

* * *

This was interesting.

On Jon's Facebook account, there were photos of Donald Trump and Morty Reese.

 _This man is our saviour_ , one post read under a picture of Morty Reese.

 _You're being sarcastic, right?_ another one read.

 _No. I'm not. I hate lefties. They want to corrupt children._

I reread Jon's response.

 _No. I'm not. I hate lefties. They want to corrupt children._

Didn't Jon say that he that he hated right-wingers sometime ago? I didn't exactly remember when but he did say that at one point. He was talking to Mrs. McKinley. She was saying something about how none of the presidential candidates are sane and that regardless of whoever wins, they'll be damned. Even if it was Bernie Sanders.

* * *

"Jon, do you support Morty Reese?"

"Aly, why would you say that?" Dad's hands gripped my shoulders tightly. It was the kind that would make most people feel uncomfortable, but for me, it wasn't just discomfort. It was a sign that I was in trouble.

"His Facebook account shows it," I protested. "I hacked in and looked at it. He called Morty Reese 'our saviour.'"

"Your boyfriend did say that Jon looks like one of his captors, right? It could've just been someone that looks like Jon and has the same name he does. It's not unheard of."

"Are you sure?" I got out of my chair. It tilted but didn't fall.

Dad folded his arms and knitted his eyebrows together. "Yes." He didn't look like it. With someone like him, it wasn't hard to tell.

"Fine!" I cursed angrily. I stomped to room and didn't come out for the rest of the day.


	50. Cass 10

I had a crush on someone.

And THIS TIME, it wasn't Aly, Daria, or Jyoti. It was the Canadian PM's wife.

She was so pretty. I liked her a lot.

I began drawing pictures of her. The way I do when I have a have a crush on someone. I know that sounds crazy, but when I have a crush on someone, it lasts for 6-8 months.

I know this sounds creepy, but to me, it isn't. That one little fact sometimes scares me.

People often consider boys who have crushes on girls and start stalking them scary, but they don't say the same thing about girls.

I noticed that when I was eight (not exactly). There was this girl named Brynhild (strange name, I know), and she began following me. She had a crush on me.

To put it politely, she scared the shit out of me. I kept begging my foster 'parents' to ask her to stop but they said that it was just a crush and I should be happy about it. My foster 'dad' told me that "a real man accepts the idea of girls following them all the time. It means they're in love."

That's not how I saw it, and until I was eleven, I thought I wasn't a real man.

* * *

When I was eleven, I had a friend named Shelley. One day, he told me he had a crush on Angelina Jolie. One of the other boys was listening (I don't remember his name, let's go with No #1) and he told a teacher. I think his name was Mr. Elliot. Mr. Elliot kept Shelley in after school. He told Shelley he needed to 'get over it and man up' because he would never have Angelina Jolie as his wife.

Shelley took it pretty badly. For two weeks, he'd go on and on about how people hate him and how no one likes him. Then he'd tell me that there were probably someone who thinks he was gay or transgender. He ranted on how no one will understand him and how everyone thinks he's nuts (which he wasn't).

The best I could do was try to comfort him but he'd keep saying I didn't get it.

Maybe I didn't.

* * *

A month after Shelley stopped whining about how Mr. Elliot treated him, there was a girl named Emma who had a crush on Harry Styles. Everyone was talking about how it was cute and all.

I didn't think so.

The day I began hearing people talk about it, I went up to Emma and told her to stop doing it because she was never going to date Harry Styles.

What? It was the truth.

No #1 and his friends, No #2, No #3, were there, sitting next to Emma, and they heard me say it. No #2 called me a bully. Right in front of 198 sixth graders. And six teachers. And a principal.

Mr. Elliot took me out of the room that moment.

* * *

"Cass, do you know how disrespectful that was?" Mr. Elliot folded his arms across his chest and tapped his foot impatiently.

"You told Shelley to man up when he had a crush on Angelina Jolie because they would never date. Someone should say the same to Emma because it's true." I looked up meekly. I smiled, hoping to convince him that what I did wasn't disrespectful.

"That's different. Shelley was being a creep. All Emma's going through is an innocent crush. She'll get over it."

What? That did not make any sense. Shelley was a boy and Emma was a girl; did it make any difference in the fact that both of them had a crush on a celebrity?

To me, it didn't. But to Mr. Elliot, it did.

How that made a difference didn't make sense to me. To an eleven-year-old, it wouldn't. But to a twenty-year-old, it did.

It wasn't how Shelley acted about his crush on Angelina Jolie that made a difference, because based on what I remember, he didn't act that differently from Emma.

It was the fact that he was male that made a difference.

* * *

My face was red. My hands were behind my back. I could feel the dry skin on my lips peeling off because of my teeth. Right in front of me was twenty seven students, sitting in their desks, looking at me, wondering why I was standing in front of them. I watched Emma stare angrily. She was sitting in the middle, with Shelley beside her. If looks could kill, I'd be in the ground.

 _You got this,_ Shelley mouthed.

This was embarrassing. Humiliating. Painful. Why did I have to do this? I was just telling Emma a fact.

"IamreallysorryforharassingoneofyouandIhopeyouwillforgivemeforit."

Finally. It was over.

Mr. Elliot drummed his fingers on his desk. "That was very insincere. I can tell you're not sorry." He stood up and pointed his finger warningly at me, peering out of his horn-rimmed glasses. "You will be meeting with Emma's parents after school. They will be much worse."

He turned to the rest of the class. "You can sit, Mr. Williams."

I walked so fast I tripped over my feet and landed face down on the floor. The entire class began laughing at me. It made things ten times worse.

"ALRIGHT!" Mr. Elliot's loud voice put the silence to rest. "We need to have a very serious conversation about respect."

He wants to talk about respect and how we should treat each other well regardless of whoever we have a crush on but he made fun of Shelley for his crush on Angelina Jolie? Something about that didn't add up.

I got up and hurried to my desk. I sat and put my head down in humiliation.

Of all the people I could've been seated next to, why did it have to be Emma's best friend, Vivian?

To save your time, things did not get any better for me. Especially that encounter with Emma's parents.

That's one thing I'd like to forget. But I'll never, no matter how much I'd like to.

* * *

I finished my sketch of the Canadian PM's wife. It was pretty close to how she looked. I think my sketch made her look better.

I wasn't sure if I should colour the picture. It was already pretty good on its own, but it could look even better with colour.

"Cass, are you in there?"

Crap. Lisa.

I folded up the paper as quickly as I could and shoved it into my drawer. Just in time for Lisa to come in.

"L-l-lisa! Why are you here?" I stuttered.

"I just wanted to check if you were here." She looked around the room. "Dinner's in half an hour. I'll call you down soon, okay?"

"Okay."

Lisa grinned. "Good." The she shut the door.

I sighed in relief. It was best that Lisa didn't know the fact that I had a crush on someone.

If she did...

I wouldn't be able to take it.

* * *

 **This is probably going to my longest author's note but I just needed to get this off my chest. This chapter was the hardest to write. The main reason was the PM thing. I thought it would be a great idea to introduce Cass's crush on his wife. It seemed like it was fun, thought TBH, some of you may find it sick, and I kind of did too. It was weird having to listen to music while writing this. It felt so wrong. The only song that I felt comfortable listening to while writing this was "Iris," by the Goo Goo Dolls. Maybe it's because the whole story is, to a certain point, centered around this song. It was the song I'd most frequently listen to while writing this, besides "Bittersweet Symphony" and "November Rain."**

* * *

 **Moving on. I'm hoping to wrap up the story in March-May, or earlier, so I can work on the other fanfiction story ideas. I hope everyone who's reading this enjoys it and the other story I wrote for Seven Wonders. :)**


	51. Marco 11

I was playing a _Pokémon_ video game on Aito's Nintendo. He wanted to hang out with Fa and Luca because he'd fried his brain from playing so many video games. Nirvana was checking the main computer. We were in the headquarters. Nirvana wanted to check her email, and I wanted to talk to her to see if she was willing to talk to Mr. McKinley about flying me to Ohio to see my parents. I wished I talked to her about that earlier.

"Oh god, no." I heard Nirvana breathing heavily. There must have been an email about something that wasn't good. Nirvana sometimes received them.

"Oh god." I heard Nirvana's footsteps. I looked up. She seemed worried.

"Marco." She got down on one knee and began shaking my arm. If she had the strength of Finni from _Black Butler_ , she would have torn off my arm. Or killed me.

"Did something-"

"Yes, something bad happened. I need to get the others."

"Nirvana?"

I watched her run frantically out the room as I dropped the console.

"What is it that is so bad?" I pondered as I sat down in the chair and put my hands on the keyboard.

It was Jon's email account. Twelve emails were unread. The last email was from Morty Reese.

* * *

 _To Jon Cunningham_

 _Assuming the bugs are still working, what new information do you have on Marco Ramsay, Jack McKinley, Aly Black, Cass Williams, Eloise Williams, Aito Hatori, and the other Select? We'll need this information so we can make a documentary and air it to the entire nation, as you know. Once the documentary is aired, we'll be rich. I can imagine the money. It'll be great._

 _Mortimer Reese_

* * *

I had to read that twice. _Jon was with Morty Reese?_ Why did it take so long for that to have been found out? How long had he been working for him? The email said 'new information' and a 'documentary.' Did he put cameras in our rooms? How much did he know about us?

Trembling, I clicked on the _Folders_ section. Four words appeared underneath. _Spam. Trash. Select. Adults._

I directed my arrow to _Select._ The screen changed. The subject of the first email read _Marco Ramsay and Nirvana Wilson Grohl._

* * *

 _August 15th_

 _Mortimer Reese_

 _Marco and Nirvana continue to hang out in private. Yesterday she told him about her dead husband being asexual. Apparently that was the reason his first wife divorced him._

* * *

Today was August 17th. Three days ago, Nirvana told me Fiddle married once before he married her. To be specific, she said Fiddle's first wife divorced him after being married for three months. About a month after being married, 'Adrianna' began pestering him to have sex with her. The day after Fiddle told her he was asexual, and that he found the idea of having sex sick, she filed for divorce.

* * *

 _He was nineteen when he married his first wife._

* * *

That was true. Fiddle was in his second year of college when he proposed. Two months later, he and his fiancé married.

I read the rest of the email. I was already angry with how Jon had betrayed us but how he acted about Fiddle's asexuality disgusted me. How many times had I read the words 'pervert' and 'pedophile' in the email? What made him think he had the right to say Fiddle wasn't a real man?

When I was done, I began reading the other emails. I kind of understood why Jack and Aly kissed each other when she came back from Atlantis. If you were destined to die at age fourteen, wouldn't you want to at least have someone kiss you?

I scrolled down until I came to an email that read _Daria_.

* * *

 _March 29_

 _Aly Black told Daria she wants Cass Williams and Daria to date._

WHAT? Why didn't Daria tell me? Why would Aly want my ex-girlfriend and Cass to date?

Reading that email made me realize that many of the emails between Jon and Morty Reese were about things I didn't even know about that had been going on with every one else.

What secrets were in the emails? What was I missing?


	52. Daria 11

"Are you fucking serious?"

My fingers gripped the table. I could feel one of my nails breaking.

"Yes." Anne grabbed my wrist. "You will be going to your room, because I can't believe some of the things I read about you in those emails."

She forced me out of my chair with her strong, Iron-Man like grip. Anne dragged me across the room, up the staircase, and into the hallway.

"Why would you of all people act like this? You never acted like someone who would read _Playboy_ magazines."

Anne wasn't supposed to find out about my secret stash of _Playboy_ magazines. I started reading them two months ago, after I broke up with Marco. It was a horrible break-up. It made me feel so bad and angry I almost broke a window by trying to hurl a book out of it. I don't remember which book it was but I do remember it was a John Green novel. Just not which one.

I began reading _Playboy_ after I found them in the Torquin's trash bin. I don't know why I pulled it out. Maybe it was the fact that Marilyn Monroe was on the cover. I liked Marilyn Monroe because she was pretty and interesting. It was too bad she died so young. She could have starred in more movies if she'd lived.

Ever since I started reading, I developed an addiction to them. There were a 'guilty pleasure.' A good trashy magazine. I liked a good trashy magazine as much as the next girl.

And now my secret was discovered.

"I read them for the articles."

That actually was true. I really did read them for the articles.

I hoped Anne would believe me. But I knew she wouldn't. The smarter part of me knew that.

* * *

 **Berry here. We're finally at the twist in the story. Yay. _No Secrets_ cover the month after finding out about Jon, then hopefully it should end. We all know today's the last day of 2015, and I wanted to help celebrate the New Year by publishing the final chapters of the year. I hope everyone had a great Christmas/holiday and I wish you a Happy New Year. :).**


	53. Jack 11

"I did not make Aly kiss me! She let me kiss her!"

"Do you expect me to believe that?"

Aly's parents and I were in the Comestibule. I was sitting opposite of them, and Aly was sitting behind them. Her face and eyes were red, and her cheeks were streaked with tears. Her nose was wrinkly and especially red. Her bottom lip was bleeding. She was breathing heavily.

I gulped and looked down. Out of lack of a better answer, I shook my head.

"Why did you kiss her?" Mr. Black lifted my chin. I could feel his sharp nails digging into my skin. His eyes were filled with hatred and anger, but also disappointment and sadness. As though he liked me, which I thought he did when I first met him. But that was two years ago, and a lot can happen in two years.

"I-"

What was I going to say? I wanted to cry and beg Aly's parents to forgive me. But knowing her parents-especially her dad-it wouldn't work. I'd be lucky if her parents even let me talk to her after this, let alone continue dating her.

It was a deafening silence.

"I loved her since the day she nearly died, and I was sorry for not letting her know before Uhl'aar dragged her through the rift." I was breathing just as heavily, if not heavier, than Aly.

"And you let her know you loved her by kissing her." Her dad seemed to be glaring at me and through me at the same time.

"Aly would've pushed me away if she didn't want me to kiss her! She's a strong girl."

Mr. Black let go of my chin. Mrs. Black pursed her lips and sighed.

"You could've just said 'I love you' to her. You didn't have to kiss her.

"I know Aly is strong, and that is something she probably would do, but she knew we wouldn't allow her to kiss someone before we allowed her to date." She looked over her shoulder. Aly's head hung low, and I could hear her tears. All I wanted was to put my arm around her, but I probably wouldn't be able to do that anymore. Not with no longer being able to keep the things we wanted to keep a secret.

Mom put her hands on my shoulder. Her grip was tight, and her fingers dug into my skin.

I looked down. Tears began forming at the corner of my eye.

"I don't know if I can even trust you," Mom whispered into my ear.

I wanted to stand up and say she could, and tell her I'm old enough to take care of myself, but I couldn't.

I didn't have the strength.


	54. Aly 11

"Alice, you're a smart girl." Dad frowned at me, upset. "You should've known better than to kiss someone before us allowing you to date."

I didn't say anything.

"Alice." He shook my arm. I moved away. I didn't want to talk.

We were in my room. Mom had left for her room because she was tired and wanted to sleep. It was after midnight, and Dad wouldn't sleep. He said he wouldn't until I gave him an answer. So that meant I wouldn't sleep either.

For the umpteenth time, Dad asked, "Why did you let him kiss you?"

I was tired. Tired of all the drama. Tired of the questions. Tired of the anger. Tired from fatigue. Tired of Dad asking me the same question over and over. Tired and angry.

"Well?"

No answer.

"I WANT AN ANSWER! WHEN WILL YOU GIVE ME ONE?"

That was the last straw.

"I LIKED HIS KISS!" I screamed. "IT WAS LIKE A SPELL! IT WAS ENCHANTING! I LIKED IT!"

I wiped my nose. It was running.

"IT MADE ME FEEL GOOD!" I cried. "THAT KISS MADE MY WHOLE WORLD BRIGHTER. IT CHANGED ME."

There was a long silence.

"Is that why?" Dad asked. "Because it was good?"

"Yes."

He pursed his lips.

"Fine."

I watched him leave and slam the door shut behind him.

Sobbing, I lay down on the bed.

I didn't sleep that night.


	55. Cass 11

Eloise and I had stopped talking to each other.

After Jon, I decided I didn't want to talk to her anymore. Why should I? She'd treated me pretty badly at times. She forced me to put on nail polish, she made me give her piggy back rides, and she dumped a bucket of paint on me.

She called it a joke. _A joke_.

As if I would call that a joke.

And that wasn't even the worst thing she did.

* * *

"Cass, I get that you're angry, but please talk to me. I'm your little sister."

I just kept walking, not stopping to look at Eloise.

As long as I lived, I wouldn't ever talk to her anymore.

Even though I was tempted to talk to her because I loved her.

* * *

For two years, I tried to build a loving relationship with a rugrat. A little bitch who wasn't grateful for what she had. It didn't matter if she was my sister. Why did I bother trying to get along with her? Why did Mrs. McKinley tell me I had a sister? I would have better off not knowing.

The past two years of my life had been a waste. Something I should never have done.

Why?


	56. Marco 12

"Marco." Nirvana shook me. I groaned. I hated the idea of getting out of bed. But I had to.

"Whatizzit?" I mumbled, sitting up.

"Jack's father wants to talk to you. He wants to know if you're willing to come to Ohio to meet your parents and your sister. I'm willing to come."

Jack's dad was planning to take me to Ohio? And Nirvana was coming?

I had to be dreaming.

"Yes! I want to come!"

I was going to see my parents. After three years.

I was so thrilled.

I hugged Nirvana. "Tell Mr. McKinley he's the best."

"I will."

* * *

I dragged my suitcases to Brunhilda, the plane that would take me to Ohio to see my family. Nirvana was coming with me as a chaperone since Mr. McKinley didn't want me going alone, though she did say that she was coming because she wanted to get to know my parents and sister.

"Are you happy?" Nirvana smiled as she climbed up the ladder.

"Hell I am!" I shouted eagerly. I wanted the whole world to hear me. To hear my happiness.

* * *

Once the baggage was in the compartments, I buckled my seatbelt.

I could hardly wait.


	57. Daria 12

I hated getting up at the ass-crack of dawn.

Being younger than Marco, Aly, Cass, and Jack hadn't been a big deal, but nowadays it was. No one listened to me after finding out about my secret stash of _Playboy_ magazines. At least that's how I felt. People laugh at others for ridiculous reasons, such as what they like. What's bad about liking pornography? Sure, it's gross, but if that's what people like then okay.

I overheard Anne say that in one of the emails Jon sent to Morty Reese, she said that I, in Jon's words, 'someone people would call a bigot for knowing that homosexuality is unnatural.'

I didn't 'know' homosexuality was unnatural, I _thought_ it was unnatural. I didn't have an issue with other people seeing it as okay. Again, beliefs.

I went up to Anne and told her that I thought homosexuality was unnatural and that if someone else thinks it is, then that's their opinion. Anne looked at me and said, "Daria, you should know that it's okay to be gay, not bad. You're hurting other people when you say that."

I thought Anne respected other people's opinions. She said so herself. The past two years proved otherwise.


	58. Jack 12

It had been weeks since Jon was dismissed. I still hadn't talked to Aly, though I wanted to. I just didn't have the courage.

Until now.

Aly was sitting at a table, her attention focused onto her phone.

 _You got this Jack. You want to talk to her, and you need to do it._

"Aly."

"What do you want?" She looked at me. Her face was bitter, and her eyes were filled with a combination of anger, relief, and disbelief.

"Do you want to hang out for a bit of time?"

She put down her phone and pursed her lips. "I guess."

"Let's go."


	59. Aly 12

"How has the last few weeks been?"

Jack and I were strolling around the campus. People went along as usual, doing their work.

Except they weren't.

"The last few weeks have been incredibly shitty," I said.

"Same," Jack nodded.

For a while we just cruised around the ground.

"Do you think anything will ever be the same again?" Jack asked.

I shook my head no.

"I don't either."

"I'd be surprised if your parents let me date you."

I looked down, then up.

"Do you still like me?" I asked.

Jack didn't say anything. Instead he grabbed my chin and kissed me.

I closed my eyes. Sure, my parents may kill me, but what the doctor ordered was a kiss.

One last kiss.


	60. Cass 12

It had been weeks since I last talked to Eloise.

After Jon had stolen our privacy, I decided not to talk to Eloise for the rest of my life. And now I felt bad about it.

How could I do that? She was my little sister and I chose to abandon her! She made me angry at times, but she also made me happy. Why?

After thinking it over, I decided to talk to Eloise.

So here I am, standing right at her door. My hands are sweating, and my mouth is dry. It's midnight, and I don't know what I'm going to say. Should I tell her I'm sorry and ask her to forgive me? Or should I let her give me the flak? Should I even be standing out here at midnight since she's sleeping?

"Eloise," I say, knocking on the door. "I'm sorry I stopped talking to you, and I hope you forgive me."

I keep doing that for an hour, but there's no answer. It's not worth it. Why am I wasting my time when it was obvious she wouldn't forgive me?

I sigh. It's one a.m., and I should be sleeping. I run back to my dorm and slam the door shut. I sit down and put my head in my arms.

I hate life. I hate it so much.


	61. Marco 13

I got off the plane. For the first time in four years, I was back in Ohio.

"How does it feel?" asked Nirvana, carrying a duffel bag and dragging a suitcase. I took one of them.

"I don't know how to say it." It was so thrilling I could feel water dripping out of the corner of my eye. I quickly wiped it away.

"It's okay to cry," said Nirvana, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Knock yourself out."

I smiled. This had to be the best day of my life.

Ohio, here I come.


End file.
